


Dream Lover

by eeyore9990



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-04
Updated: 2005-11-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5868010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When dreams become reality, will our favourite boys have the strength and courage to remain with each other despite the obstacles?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Harry shouted, cheeks flushing with anger as he clenched his fists at his sides. 

Draco swivelled his head and looked at Harry, a smirk gracing his features as he dropped his bag into the waiting hands of his silent goons. Apparently, it was time once again to show Potter that one did _not_ speak to a Malfoy like that.

He stalked toward Harry, putting the threat of violence into his swagger. “What’s that, Potter?”

Harry watched through glinting green eyes as Draco walked toward him with hips that seemed to swivel without consideration for the laws of physics. He stood his ground, chin tipped up like the brave fool he was, trying desperately to ignore the way his blood sped through his veins--not at the threat of impending danger, but with the hope of sexual contact.

Draco tipped his head sexily as he sauntered toward Potter, gazing through his pale eyelashes at his slightly shorter classmate. He would make Potter pay, all right. His lips curled into an evil smile as the thought of the lesson he was about to inflict made his pulse surge. 

Right as he was ready to set his plan into motion, he looked into Potter's eyes and became lost. He faltered, head dipping toward the brunet's with no direction from his temporarily absent brain. 'Green' just didn't describe those eyes. They were more perfect than emeralds, but had the true pure colour of the first blade of spring. They sparkled in the sunlight, dazzling him with their beauty.

He jerked his gaze away, needing to right his hold on reality. Unfortunately, he redirected his gaze to Potter's full, red lips, which were currently parted, quick breaths gusting over them. Potter broke his will with one swipe of a wet, pink tongue over those luscious lips.

Groaning audibly, he allowed his head to fall the rest of the way, angling just right to avoid bumping Potter's nose. He brushed his lips against the pillowy softness of the brunet’s mouth, needing to keep this slow but not knowing why. He heard a questioning sound escape his prey and in reply brought one hand up to cup the back of his head, gentling him and pulling him into the kiss. Opening his mouth, he licked along the full lower lip that would from this moment on star in all his fantasies. 

"Potter," he murmured huskily, begging for more. 

Harry sighed and opened his mouth, their classmates and surroundings long forgotten in the splendour of this kiss. Their first, but hopefully not their only. He slid his hands into Draco's robes, smoothing them over the hips that had teased his imagination so many times during the years, wrapping around to cup the blond’s perfect arse. 

Draco rubbed his thumb against Harry's jaw, encouraging him to open his mouth wider, to accept the thrust of his tongue. Granted entrance at last, he moaned and pushed forward, senses on overload as the kiss quickly turned passionate and needy. Tongues curled and teeth clacked as they both fought for possession of the other. 

The firm hands kneading his arse sent Draco into a frenzy of want. He thrust his fingers into Potter's--Harry's--messy hair, pulling on it slightly as he transferred his mouth to the brunet's long, corded neck. 

Harry rubbed his hips against those of his nemesis, needing the friction. He whispered Draco's name over and over as the blond bit down on the sensitive place at the base of his throat. Harry gasped harshly, jerking the silk shirt from Draco's trousers, needing to feel the hot, smooth skin underneath. “Malfoy, oh gods, Malfoy…”

“Draco!” Harry called, his voice changing, becoming Goyle’s. “Draco!”

A large hand shook his shoulder, waking him up. Draco lay in his bed, gasping for breath, the sheets twisted around his body.

~*~

“You ok, mate?” his best friend asked, watching as he tried desperately to collect himself and his scattered wits. _That dream!_

He blinked up at the fuzzy image of Ron and croaked, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go on down to the common room. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ron nodded, worry etching his forehead, and left to go find his girlfriend. Hermione would know how to get Harry to tell them what was wrong.

Harry lay in his bed for a moment and lifted his fingers to his lips. He could still taste Dra— _the other man_ on his lips. Dragging in a shaky breath he reached down and took care of his ‘problem’ in an embarrassingly brief period of time. Casting a quick cleaning charm on himself and his bed, he hurriedly washed and dressed, racing down to the common room where Hermione and Ron stood waiting.

Hands on hips, Hermione rounded on him. “Harry, Ron said you had a nightmare. Do we need to go see the Headmaster?”

Shooting a black scowl at Ron for his treachery, Harry replied, “It wasn’t that kind of nightmare, Herms. Now, can we go eat? I’m starving!”

“Sorry, mate,” Ron muttered, worrying the back of his freckled neck. “It’s just, you were screaming about Malfoy and I thought maybe you knew where he was or something. You know.”

Harry felt his face assuming a puzzled expression. “Malfoy’s in his dorms Ron. Where else would he be?”

Ron’s mouth dropped open for a second before he sputtered, “I thought you were yelling about _Lucius_ Malfoy, Harry. I thought maybe you saw where he was or something.”

Harry’s face burst into flame as he avoided Ron’s questioning gaze. “Uh, yeah, ok. Breakfast, then?”

Hermione sighed disgustedly but the trio left and quickly found themselves sitting down to a sumptuous breakfast.

From where Harry was sitting he had a clear view of Malfoy. His eggs turned to dust in his mouth as he relived the startlingly vivid dream he’d had last night. He remembered the feel of those lips on his; his head still tingled from where Malfoy had tugged on his hair. Harry squirmed in his seat, the fit of his trousers becoming increasingly tight the longer he looked at the beautiful blond across the hall. 

Hermione noticed that Harry only took a few bites before pushing his food around his plate. “Harry…”

Harry looked at her, his face slightly flushed as he said, “Don’t worry, Hermione. I’m ok. I promise.” He smiled at her and patted her hand, letting her know without words that he appreciated the love behind the worry. 

Her smile didn’t quite reach her troubled eyes as she grasped his hand and squeezed.

Harry got up to leave the table, needing some sort of physical activity to take his mind off matters. “I’m going flying, Ron. Want to come?”

Around a mouthful of food, Ron promised to join him as soon as he was finished with his breakfast. 

Harry strode toward the doors, not noticing a certain blond heading in the same direction.

~*~

Draco left breakfast early, his emotions still in turmoil over his dream from the night before. He needed to get out of the castle, leave everything and just…just leave. It was a perfect day for flying and he was determined to get out to the pitch before anyone else. As he approached the doors to the great hall, he didn’t notice Harry moving in the same direction, their paths destined to coincide.

“Oomph!” Draco staggered back from the collision, hand reaching automatically to help right whomever he’d run into. His hand closed over Harry’s forearm and when their eyes met, the dream from the previous night came rushing back to him. He’d been right. ‘Green’ didn’t do them justice.

The two boys stood looking at one another, gazes locked for what seemed an eternity. Emotions flashed through vibrant emerald pools: confusion, anxiety, and something else, something indefinable. The brunet slowly pulled his arm free of Draco’s grasp and the feel of that skin sliding under his hand was achingly, hauntingly familiar, as if they’d stood in this time and place before. 

Draco’s lips parted on a breath, one he’d forgotten to take in his moment of rapture. Blinking quickly, he dropped his gaze and stepped back, gathering his wits enough to sneer shakily, “Potter. Clumsy as always, I see.”

The other boy lifted his chin in familiar defiance, and replied coolly, “And yet I still beat you at everything, don’t I, Malfoy?” 

Draco watched as the dark haired teen turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He didn’t notice that the hall had gone deathly silent as their schoolmates and professors watched the strangely intense interplay between the two young rivals.

He rubbed the tips of his fingers over his palm, trying to recapture the sensations he’d felt so fleetingly only moments before. It just wasn’t the same. Potter’s skin was…different, warmer, smoother, softer than his own. With a hard shake of his head, he let his feet carry him from the hall, needing the release flying always brought him. 

As he approached the pitch, he saw that he was too late; someone had beaten him there. He watched, enthralled, as the tiny figure looped and whirled, spinning faster and faster around the pitch, zigzagging dangerously. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that the only person who could fly with such perfect abandon was his long time nemesis. 

His silvery gaze tracked the brunet on the broom as his mouth parted on a shuddering breath. He absently adjusted the fit of his trousers, whole being focused on the reckless boy shooting through the air. Gods, _what_ was this sudden fascination with Potter all about? Why couldn’t he hold on to his anger? 

All he knew was that he was in no state to see anyone else. Hearing footsteps coming toward him, he ducked under the bleachers and remained silent, as Weasley passed within a few feet of his hiding place. Vaguely shaken, he hurried back to the castle, taking refuge in his room.


	2. Wet Dreams

“Give it **back** , Malfoy!”

Draco smirked down at the tiny, dark haired figure on the ground as he tossed Longbottom’s Remembrall through the air. “Come and make me, Potter!” he taunted wickedly.

Harry looked at the broom in his hand, sinful thoughts floating through his mind. Oh, he’d get Malfoy. He’d show him once and for all who the best flyer at Hogwarts was. 

Harry kicked off from the ground, shooting straight at Malfoy who saw him coming and darted off on his own broom. Within moments they were flying at dangerously high speeds through the Forbidden Forest, dodging trees and ducking branches, Malfoy’s mocking laughter floating back to Harry as he slowly narrowed the gap between himself and the blond. 

_Got you!_ his mind screamed as he reached forward and grabbed the bristles at the end of Draco’s broom, jerking hard and pulling the other boy back to him. Wide silver eyes turned on him in shock and Harry felt his mouth curve into a smile that promised wickedness. 

Draco narrowed his eyes and purposefully braked, Harry’s grip on his broom pulling him off his own. Right before he fell, the brunet grabbed Draco’s foot and they plummeted together, landing on the softly cushioned forest floor in a tumble of arms and legs, finally coming to a halt with Harry on top of Draco.

Green eyes blazed into silver as they each fought to catch their breath. Draco shifted slightly under Harry, trying to push the other boy off him. Harry’s eyes flared as their bodies rubbed together where they were joined at the hip. Keeping his gaze trained on his adversary’s, he slowly leaned forward and captured the slightly thin lips with his own. 

Draco stilled completely, held in thrall by the soft lips moving so sensuously over his own. His eyelids fluttered closed as his hands found Harry’s hips, holding them in place while he gently rubbed against him. 

Harry moaned, lost in the sensation of friction right where he needed it most. He gripped Draco’s face between his hands, deepening the kiss, thrusting his tongue into that sweet mouth. He would never get over how good the blond tasted, like the finest chocolate, melting in his mouth. He fought against the restraint of Draco’s hands, needing to increase the pace, whimpering with each breath. He reached for the bliss he knew was coming. He was _right there_ \--

“Harry! Harry!” 

Ron’s voice shattered his dream as he came awake with a shout. It was good for his continued friendship with the redhead that his wand was out of his immediate reach because he was so damn close to hexing him that it didn’t bear thinking about.

“WHAT, Ron?!” If a person could combust with unfulfilled desire, Harry would surely be in flames.

“I…you… You sounded like someone was torturing you, mate,” Ron said, hurt and confused by the obvious anger directed at him by his best friend.

Harry snorted out an exasperated laugh, flopping back against his pillow. He heard the sounds of their other dorm mates stirring and confessed, “It was a wet dream, Ron! I can deal with that kind of torture.”

Harry heard Seamus break into loud guffaws at that and looked at his friend apologetically. “Sorry I snapped at you, but uh…”

Ron cleared his throat, deeply embarrassed now at waking Harry up. “Yeah, sorry. Go back to sleep then? Maybe she’s still waiting for you?” He smiled slightly, shrugging off his blunder.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “Maybe **she** is.” He laid awake the rest of the night tossing and turning.

~*~

Draco came awake with a gasp, pulled roughly from the dream right before he could…  
He bit down on his lip, stifling that thought. He did _not_ want to allow Potter to bring him off, even in his dreams.

He glanced down apprehensively at himself, noticing the way his sheet was tented around his waist. He was so hard he hurt. With a soft sigh, he let his hands wander over his body, plucking at his nipples and trailing lightly over his stomach, muscles clenching at the sensation. He closed his eyes, giving into the luxury of the quiet of the seventh year Slytherin dorm to indulge in a slow, satisfying wank. 

He was _not_ picturing brilliant green eyes when he finally came with a moan. 

Or so he told himself.

~*~

Harry cautiously entered the Potions classroom. This would be the first time he had seen Malfoy since that last dream. He didn’t know if he could hide his reaction to the beautiful blond boy who seemed to exude sex. And it would not do to throw him to the floor and ravish him in front of their classmates and Snape.

Snape. 

Just thinking the man’s name was like being doused with ice water and he was able to proceed into the room without worrying about giving himself away. Unfortunately, though, Snape seemed to want to truly torture him today and paired him with Malfoy. 

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed hard, willing his body to calm down before he slowly gathered his things and moved over to the workbench where Malfoy sat.

Draco stiffened in shock when Snape paired him with Potter. _Nooooooooooo!_ his mind screamed. He could not work with the Golden Boy, not today. Not after that last dream. Or even the first one. 

Determinedly avoiding eye contact, or contact of any kind really, with Potter, Draco set about brewing the potion on the board. He relaxed by slow degrees as the first hour passed without incident, both boys remaining absolutely silent throughout the entire ordeal. 

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter. You are supposed to help your classmate brew the potion, not sit back and let him do all the work,” Snape barked out. Then he smiled smugly as he added, “And ten points to Slytherin for a perfect potion, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco felt Potter stiffen in outrage next to him. The dark haired boy had been working side by side with him for the entire length of the class, doing his part in a silent, but efficient manner. 

“Bloody greasy git!” Harry mumbled under his breath, anger washing through him. 

He barely heard Draco offer back, “Poor little Potty, can’t buy a break can you? I’d feel sorry for you, but then, I so love watching you suffer.”

“Shut it, Malfoy.”

“Come and make me, Potter.”

Harry stilled, his blood freezing in his veins as the taunting voice from his most erotic dreams washed over him. He chanced a quick look at his work partner, noticing that he’d also gone motionless, hand hovering over the bubbling cauldron.

Draco released a shaky breath. Why had he said that? Now all he could think about was kissing Potter, taking him to the cold stone floor and doing everything they’d done in his dream last night…and then some. He made himself move, tipping the ashwinder eggs into the cauldron and regulating his uneven breathing. 

“Problem, Potter?”

“Never, Malfoy.”

Draco couldn’t help himself as he taunted, “Then quit checking out my arse, you bloody pouf.”

Harry snorted softly, keeping his voice low so as not to draw Snape’s attention, “In your dreams, Malfoy.”

“You have no idea,” Draco whispered, flicking his gaze to Harry’s. It was one of those moments that seemed to last an eternity as they stared hungrily at one another.

“Bring your potions to the front and clear your workstations. You have five minutes.” 

Snape’s voice broke over them, forcing their minds back to the task at hand.

 _What the hell is going on?!_ both boys wondered as they quickly completed their tasks.

~*~

“Professor Snape, do you have a moment?”

Snape looked up with a frown, hating to be disturbed when he was marking papers. “Yes, Malfoy, what is it?”

“I…I need to ask you something.” Draco chewed his lip, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

“Go on.”

“Is it possible to have sensory experiences in a dream? I mean, to _actually_ taste something or feel it?”

“Well, dreams are a product of your subconscious. It may seem like you can taste, but you do not truly taste, it is simply your mind creating the sensations. Why?”

“It’s just that I’ve been having very vivid dreams the last few nights. When I wake up, I remember them exactly and usually I don’t remember my dreams at all. In fact, it feels like I’ve just returned from where ever I was in my dream.”

Snape nodded thoughtfully and murmured, “Yes, well, I wouldn’t worry about it overmuch. It is more than likely simply the stress of your NEWT’s approaching. It is not uncommon for students to have stressful dreams.”

“I suppose.” Draco shrugged, unconvinced. “Thank you sir, I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

Snape watched Draco leave the room then narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he went to his bookshelf and pulled down a small black volume.

~*~

Harry watched from the shadows as Draco left the dungeons, green eyes drinking in every nuance of the blond. He felt unaccountably drawn to the other boy, _needing_ to feast on him one way or another. The problem was that he knew Draco would rather hex him than talk to him, and anything further than that was certainly out of the question. 

His dream lover, though he had the body and characteristics of Draco Malfoy, was simply a figment of his over-active, hormone-ruled mind and he should _never_ forget it. 

He fell in step behind Draco, staying far back and walking as silently as possible, memorizing the curve of the blond’s arse through his tailored trousers. His undisciplined body reacted to the sight, hardening by slow degrees the longer he watched. By the time Draco turned off toward the Slytherin dorms, Harry was having trouble walking. With a shuddering sigh, he fled as quickly as he could to Gryffindor tower to take care of his problem.


	3. Of Snakes and Slytherins

Harry watched in horror as the snake flew through the air, landing with a hiss directly in front of Justin Finch-Fletchley. He looked around, waiting for Lockhart to do something, only to realize that everyone in the crowd was showing little reaction to the proceedings on the “stage” where the duel had been taking place. He looked down the end to Draco; instead of seeing the twelve-year old boy he had expected to see, he saw the seventeen-year old man that he’d come to desire with every breath in his body. 

Realizing this was a dream, he concentrated and suddenly the room was empty, save him Draco, and strangely enough, the still hissing snake. 

‘Be calm,’ he said to the snake in Parseltongue. ‘We mean you no harm.’

‘I am offended at the treatment of the false one. Serpents are not meant to fly.’

Harry smiled at the snake’s description of Lockhart as he continued his strange conversation. ‘Dragons are serpents and they are lovely fliers, but yes, I understand how you would not like to find yourself in a situation over which you have no control.’

The snake met his gaze, holding it steady for several seconds, seeming to take his measure. ‘Who is the other? The albino?’

Harry frowned. _Albino?_ He started shaking his head in confusion before he was interrupted by an angry Draco. 

“What is the meaning of this, Potter? Are you trying to get that snake to attack me?”

Harry’s gaze flicked to the blond, who he had nearly forgotten during his dialogue with the snake. White hair, pale skin…ah, Draco was the ‘albino’ to which the snake had been referring.

“The snake is not going to attack you, Draco. Stop being such a girl.” Harry smirked at the blush that spread across those soft cheeks, watching as the other young man dipped his head forward, hiding behind his loose hair.

The snake hissed in amusement. ‘He is very attracted to you, dark one. I can sense his lust like a cloud that hangs over him, following him everywhere.’

Harry looked at the snake, mouth dropping open a bit in amazement. ‘You can sense lust?’

‘Yes, it is very appealing to me. Makes me want to lick over him and taste it.’

Harry’s breathing became shallow as he thought about what the snake was saying. He concentrated again and suddenly Malfoy was standing in all his pale, naked glory. He stalked toward him, eyes eagerly taking in every inch of the previously unseen form. As he looked him over, he noticed Malfoy becoming aroused, and his own cock twitched in reaction.

Reaching Malfoy, he pulled the other boy’s wand through his loose grip, watching in fascination as the grey eyes widened. Sliding around behind him, Harry wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled the unresisting body flush against his still-clothed chest. He dipped his head, allowing his lips to barely touch the shell of the other boy’s ear as he whispered, “Shhh. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”

“What do you—What are you doing?” Malfoy asked as haughtily as his shaky voice would allow. 

Dragging one hand up Draco’s firm, smooth torso, Harry tweaked a dusky nipple as he answered, “Pleasuring you.”

Draco yelped as he felt something slither up his leg. Potter was a hard presence at his back, and what his hands were doing… Draco couldn’t stop a moan from escaping his lips. He had realized he was dreaming when Potter had made the other inhabitants of this memory disappear, but he had been unable to take control at any point. And oddly, he felt entirely safe. The arm wrapped around him centred him, gave him something on which to focus other than his own nudity. 

He gasped when he heard the hissing sounds of Potter speaking Parseltongue to the snake. This close, feeling the breath over his ear and neck, the sensations shot straight to his groin and he bucked his hips, needing touch there. His eyes slid closed and his head fell back on the brunet’s muscular shoulder as he gave in to the feelings he was currently experiencing.

‘Taste him,’ Harry said to the snake that was winding itself up Malfoy’s thigh. 

The snake looked at him and blinked before opening its mouth impossibly wide and taking in the entirety of Draco’s length. 

Draco moaned and brought his hands up, twining them in the thickness of Potter’s hair as he dragged the other boy’s mouth around and down for a passionate, open mouthed kiss. He refused to look down, not wanting to see his cock being devoured by the snake but loving the sensation of the muscular throat undulating and swallowing around him. 

Harry continued to tweak at Malfoy’s nipples as he became lost in the kiss, pushing his hips slowly against the taut arse pressed so tightly against him. Malfoy moaned and spread his legs slightly, allowing Harry to press even closer. 

Draco dragged his mouth away as something niggled at his brain. “How are you taller than me, Potter?”

Harry chuckled, not bothering to remove his lips from Malfoy’s neck as he replied, “It’s _my_ dream, Malfoy. I can be and do whatever I want in my dream.”

Draco rumbled a nonsensical reply, not bothering to argue with Potter that it was in actuality _his_ dream. He really couldn’t form a coherent reply at any rate; between what the snake was doing to his cock and what Potter was doing to his nipples and throat, he was about to explode into a thousand glittering pieces.

He lost control completely as he felt a slick, cool presence sliding sensuously over the skin behind his balls, pressing firmly and rhythmically as the snake constricted around his cock. With a shout he came, pulsing down the snake’s muscular, gripping throat, not noticing the tiny prick of fangs in his moment of pure bliss.

Harry whimpered, the sound of Draco in the grip of orgasm was too sexy to be imagined and the look on his face… The blond’s jaw was clenched tight, his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, muscles flexing all along his lithe body as his hips jutted forward, slinging the snake off him with the force of his release. Harry drew his dream lover back against him and rubbed along that pert arse, grinding into it as his hands clenched around slim hips, digging in enough to leave bruises that would not be felt for hours. He sighed Draco’s name along his neck just before he bit down on that tender skin, increasing his thrusts until with a flood of wet warmth, he came against Draco’s back. 

With a shuddering breath he opened his eyes…to his darkened dormitory.

~*~

Draco slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the charmed morning sunlight streaming through the windows. He felt so relaxed and well rested this morning, and knew it was all because of the dream he’d had during the night. He’d never had an orgasm as explosive as the one he’d imagined… 

He felt his sheets, noticing the stiff spot at his waist where apparently he’d ejaculated all over the silk. Damn! These sheets were expensive. He hoped he hadn’t ruined them. _Well, as long as they’re ruined anyway, I might as well take advantage of it,_ he thought with a small wicked grin. He ran his hand down over his chest, flicking over his sensitive nipples with a sigh while he replayed the dream in his mind.

He wondered idly if being turned on by the thought of a snake going down on him was the sign of a cracked mind, then decided he really didn’t care. 

His hand continued on its downward path as he teased himself slowly, lingering over the soft hair that ran in a line down his firm belly, then circling around over his hips. With a hiss he pulled his hand back. Shit! That hurt! He lifted the sheet and peered down at himself.

It took precisely two seconds for Draco Malfoy to realize he had indeed gone round the bend. There, on his hips, were two perfect handprints. Well, fingerprints really, from where someone had obviously gripped him too hard in a moment of passion.

Draco started laughing, a slightly high-pitched hysterical sort of laugh, and within moments the other occupants of the dorm were awake and casting dark looks his direction. Hyperventilating at this point, it wasn’t long before darkness rose up to meet him.

~*~

Harry walked in to the Great Hall, ravenously hungry after his escapades of the night before. Or rather, the escapades that he’d had during his erotic dreams of the night before. He was actually surprised he felt so well rested this morning.

He looked across the hall toward the Slytherin table as had become his habit over the past week and nearly tripped over his feet when he noticed Malfoy was missing. His heart leapt to his throat as he began imagining all sorts of horrible calamities befalling the blond. 

Without stopping to think of it, he crossed over to Theodore Nott and asked in a voice harsh with worry, “Where’s Malfoy?”

The pinch-faced boy looked up and snapped, “He’s in the hospital wing! What’s it to you, freak?!”

Harry felt his face draining of all blood and he blindly turned and stumbled his way back across the hall to the Gryffindor table, where he collapsed into his seat. 

Ron turned a shocked face to him and asked, “What the hell were you doing over there, Harry? You _do_ know that’s the Slytherin table, don’t you mate?”

Harry just looked at him dazedly, not able to gather his thoughts together enough to respond. 

He looked at Hermione in anguish as he whispered, “I need to go to the hospital wing.”

Hermione looked at him, anxious concern lining her face as she nodded and asked gently, “Do you want me to walk you there?”

Harry pulled himself together enough to shake his head as he slowly stood and made his way to the hospital wing.

~*~

“Mr. Malfoy, is there anything else you need to tell me?” Madam Pomfrey asked sternly, not at all shocked at the dreams Draco had explained to her he was having. She’d been a medi-witch in a school full of hormonal teenagers far too long to bat an eyelash over a mere dream.

“I…no, nothing! I had a dream and woke up and…this! You _are_ going to fix this. I am a Malfoy, and I will _not_ \--” Draco broke off before he descended into hysterics again. ‘Am I going crazy? Oh Merlin, I’m going to end up in St. Mungo’s.’ he thought hysterically, thrusting his fingers into his hair. 

Dropping his hands back into his lap and taking a few deep, calming breaths, he sneered at Madam Pomfrey, “I am _not_ crazy and you will _not_ send me to St. Mungo’s. Do we understand one another? If you even think about it, I will have your job.”

The medi-witch sighed impatiently before telling him in a no-nonsense voice, “Of course you aren’t going crazy, Mr. Malfoy. It seems to me that you have some sort of sleeping disorder.” She glared at the arrogant boy in the sterile hospital bed and added with pursed lips, “You might want to question your dorm mates and see if one of them is receiving ‘nightly visits.’” 

Draco turned three shades of red before burying his head in his hands. If he was fucking someone in his sleep, he was going to jump off the Astronomy tower. 

“Once I’ve healed you, I want you to go to Professor Snape for some sleep therapy. He has several potions which are able to control your sleepwalking and other night-time activities.”

Draco nodded resignedly, thankful that his problem would go no further than the medi-witch and his Head of House. He missed hearing the door to the hospital wing open and close as an invisible figure left the room.

~*~

Harry fell back against the wall, stunned at what he’d overheard. Malfoy was having dreams eerily similar to his own. When he’d woken after the first dream, he’d noticed a small bruise at the base of his throat but had put it off as a Quidditch injury. Now… Now he wasn’t so sure.

His hand went to his neck and he closed his eyes and rubbed along the skin lightly as he replayed the dream in his mind. _The Forbidden Forest, Care of Magical Creatures class, sunlight streaming all around them. Harry rubbed his hips against those of his nemesis, needing the friction. He whispered Draco's name over and over as the blond bit down on the sensitive place at the base of his throat._ He opened his eyes again, breathing slightly erratically as he once again remembered the feel of teeth, the brush of soft lips, and the touch of a tongue right there. 

A sharp, terrified scream pierced his reminiscing. Through the door he heard Malfoy’s hysterical shout.

“What do you mean _fang marks?!_ ”


	4. Talking Heads

Severus Snape sat at his favourite student’s bedside in the hospital wing, watching over him carefully as he slept. He was recording Draco’s actions in a small notebook for further study. There was something going on here, and he was determined to find out what it was. 

He’d been observing the blond sleeping for over an hour before the boy started murmuring.

~*~

Draco’s head glowed green in the fireplace as he whispered dirty nothings to the boy sitting on the sofa, legs spread out in front of him and clothing unbuttoned. 

He watched, completely turned on as Harry ran a wet tongue over his full lips, eyelids drooping ‘til he was looking at Draco through mere slits, one hand inching into the opening of his jeans as the other wound through his own hair, pulling slightly. 

“Do you feel the soft skin of your cock? Run your hand up it, lightly. Don’t close your hand yet, just let your fingers caress over yourself. Feel everything there is to feel, every ridge and bump. Is the tip wet?” At Harry’s shaky nod he went on, “Use your thumb, rub it into the tip, get it nice and wet with your come and then suck it off. I want to watch you do that. You’ll look so sexy.”

Harry gave a shuddering moan and complied, back arching as his thumb grazed the sensitive tip of his pulsing cock. When the digit was fully wet, he raised it to his mouth and licked it, suckling it like a mini-cock, driving himself and his sexy partner wild. 

“Now,” Draco said, voice cracking slightly, “stroke yourself. Slowly. Tell me what it feels like.”

Eyelids quivering, nearly sobbing in pleasure, Harry grabbed himself. He locked his gaze to the swirling green one in the floo, biting his lip as he caressed the silky skin of his balls before travelling up and running a single digit lightly over his heated foreskin. Head tossing on the sofa, he mumbled, “Good. Gods, Draco, it’s so good. But it’s not enough. I want _you_. Come through, please come through, and touch me. I need you.”

Green eyes flew open as he felt a warm hand wrap around his where it was languidly stroking his cock. He watched in amazement as Draco dropped to his knees in front of him. 

Draco urged Harry to continue his strokes, keeping his pale hand firmly around the tanned one underneath it. He watched in fascination as Harry’s whole body came off the sofa, a muffled scream bursting from his lips. Pushing the brunet back down, he climbed up to straddle his hips, whimpering a bit as their joined hands brushed against his own straining erection. 

“In dreams, we can be whatever we want. We can live without fear, and love without abandon. Only in dreams.” Draco looked at Harry, torment showing in his eyes and the furrow of his brow as he whispered, “I don’t ever want to wake up.”

He caught Harry’s open mouth with his, tongue diving in to taste and tease as he tightened his grip and increased the pace of their strokes. Suddenly he stopped and pulled Harry’s hand away, fighting him slightly as the green eyed boy was too dazed by passion to understand what he was doing. 

“Shh,” he said, trying to bring him back down. He smoothed one hand over the skin of the tanned chest laid bare to his gaze through the open shirt. 

“Draco, please,” Harry begged plaintively, body undulating against the hand dragging a path of fire along his skin wherever it touched. 

Draco stood, swiftly stripping the clothes from his body. When he was totally naked, he attacked Harry’s jeans, pulling them roughly from his body. He placed wet, lingering kisses on the skin of the brunet’s inner thigh, loving the feel of the crisp hair against his lips.

When he was about to suck the erection standing so proudly between Harry’s thighs, the other boy moaned, “No.”

Looking up in surprise, silver eyes clashed with green. “Come here,” Harry gasped. “Together.” And somehow Draco understood what it was he wanted. 

He pulled the other boy to his feet and bade him stretch out on the rug, his back to the roaring fire. When Harry was positioned the way he wanted him, Draco lay down on his side, lining their bodies up perfectly. 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as their positions brought them flush against each other, naked skin rubbing provocatively, faces inches apart. He watched, mesmerized as Draco leaned in, rubbing his mouth along Harry’s parted lips. He felt wetness then, a tongue edging along the outline of his lips, so soft. 

Their encounters to this point had been full of anger or simply the need to feel. This dream, and Harry realized now that this was indeed another dream, felt more like…something. An emotion he’d never felt before. He lifted his hand to cup a pale cheek, the skin so exquisitely silky under his fingers. But there was the fine scratch of stubble where his thumb brushed. He could live forever on the sensations lying under his one hand. 

But there was more. There was the feeling of feet entwining with his, a knee nudging against his own, slipping between his thighs. A hand on his side, just above his hip, the fingers tracing small designs that were determined to drive him out of his mind. Breath ghosting over his lips as Draco continued in his taste explorations. It was as if he felt the need to memorize every bit of this moment as much as Harry did. 

He wasn’t able to hold back long. As he catalogued every sensation, he gave a sudden nip at Draco’s tongue, drawing a startled laugh from the blond. Silver eyes sparkled at him, the fire behind him making them nearly translucent. 

“No more teasing,” he whispered. “I want you.” Truth between them now, nothing else. 

A slow nod was his only response.

~*~

Snape was astounded at the words he heard pour forth from his student’s mouth. Astounded and aroused. He shifted slightly as Draco went silent, his normally pale and tautly aristocratic features softening in passion. A few moments later, he nodded languidly, a shadow of normal movement. 

Then he started moaning low in his throat, just before a red mark appeared on the previously flawless skin on his neck.

~*~

Harry smoothed a hand down the pale column of Draco’s throat, the skin there begging to be kissed. Not wanting to deny himself, he leaned forward and licked a small spot. When that didn’t give him the reaction he was looking for, he drew the skin into his mouth, sucking a bit harder than necessary. 

Draco lost all sense of composure when he felt Harry’s lips at his throat and when the brunet began suckling he found he could no longer hold back his moans. He plunged a long fingered hand into the thick mass of unkempt hair, holding Harry’s head in place as his wicked tongue lavished affection on the sensitive spot.

Not to be outdone, he brought his other hand into play, smoothing it up along Harry’s muscular torso. His questing fingers found one of the tiny, hard nubs of flesh on the deliciously defined pectoral muscles, and pinched it gently. 

As he did that, Harry bit down and growled slightly, showing how much he enjoyed it. Draco, unthinking, lost in pleasure and passion, turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead, directly over his scar.

~*~

Harry came awake with a gasp, hand immediately going to his forehead. He blinked up at the ceiling of his dorm, wondering at the meaning of the dream he’d just had. He was still hard and aching, but knew that his hand would not bring him the relief he needed. He needed the touch of a lover. He needed…Draco.

Jumping from his bed, he quietly grabbed his Invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map, and made his way swiftly to the hospital wing, where the bubble labelled “Draco Malfoy” slept on.

~*~

Snape watched as Draco’s head tossed on the pillow for a moment, the blond’s face showing turmoil. 

He tried once again to use Legilimency and was finally successful. The dream he intruded on was a normal one, where the dreamer searches through a limitless corridor in search of a missing object. 

Realizing that whatever it was that was affecting Draco was not in appearance, he decided to go back to his own rooms to sleep, leaving the blond to finish out his night in peace.

~*~

Harry watched the Snape bubble leave the hospital wing from down the hallway, making sure the man was travelling the opposite direction, before he quietly slipped into the silent hospital room. Swiftly he moved to the bed on the end, the one he knew Draco was sleeping in. 

When he got there, he took a moment to study the boy who, until recently, he’d counted as an enemy. He reached a shaking hand out to smooth the nearly white hair off the smooth forehead, and watched in amazement as Draco’s features relaxed at the touch. He’d never seen anyone who looked so beautiful. 

Draco’s eyelids fluttered as a touch pulled him from suddenly unpleasant dreams. As he woke, he knew who was with him before he even opened his eyes. It was Harry, his scent, his hand. Draco knew them both intimately. His entire body stiffened at that wayward thought.

His eyes snapped open and narrowed on the disembodied hand hovering in the air by his head.

~*~

Hermione woke to a high pitched twittering next to her ear. Prising her sleepy eyes open, she looked over and found Pig hopping up and down on her nightstand. “What the--?” Dread grew in her heart as she shakily untied the scrap of parchment from the bird’s leg. The last time he had shown up in the middle of the night, Harry had just gone through his worst dream ever, Voldemort and the Death Eaters torturing and killing an entire orphanage. 

_Hermione,  
Harry’s gone.   
Ron_

Oh, she was going to kill her boyfriend when she found him. What kind of a note was this? Where did he go? Did Ron know? What the hell was going on?!

Pig twittered loudly once more, seeming to tell her to go find Ron and get her questions answered. Throwing her housecoat on over her nightgown, she rushed out of the girl’s dorm and down to the common room where Ron was pacing worriedly before the fire.

“This is supposed to be a note?!” she hissed. 

“Well, I wanted you to come down, and I knew if I put anything else in it, you’d sit up there analysing it forever, now didn’t I?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and asked quietly, “What happened?”

“I heard him moaning again—“

“What do you mean, _again_?! He’s been having bad dreams and you haven’t said anything?!” 

“Well, they’re not always bad dreams, or that’s what he said. Anyway, he was making noises and then I heard him get up and leave. And he took the cloak and the Map, so I couldn’t go after him. I’m really worried about him. What if You Know Who is hurting him again?”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron, giving and receiving comfort as they both gave in to their worry over their friend. Gathering herself, Hermione pushed back, setting her features in a stern mask as she prepared to grill Ron.

“I want you to tell me everything that’s been happening, Ronald Weasley. Don’t you leave anything out, you understand me?”

“Well, the first night I noticed anything wonky was the night I told you about last week, when he was screaming ‘Malfoy’ in his sleep…”

~*~

Harry stumbled through the halls, not caring if he made any noise nor bothering to consult the map. He didn’t care anymore if Snape or Filch caught him. His heart felt as if it had shattered into a million pieces. 

He didn’t recall much of the trip from the hospital wing, but soon enough he was standing before the portrait of the Fat Lady, giving the current password, “hyacinth blooming”. 

He nearly missed seeing Ron and Hermione, the image of Draco’s face twisted into a mask of rejection superimposed over everything else. Hermione’s sharp gasp snapped him into focus however, and he whipped his head around to see his two best friends standing in the middle of the common room looking extremely worried.

“Harry, where’ve you been, mate?” Ron asked.

“Just walking. I…had a bad dream. Nothing related to the war, just a regular bad dream.” Harry laughed, the sound one of choked pain. “A regular bad dream. That’s almost funny, isn’t it? I have to catalogue my dreams, now.”

Hermione made a sound of distress and walked quickly to Harry, wrapping her arms around him, offering the comfort of a loving embrace.

“Harry, what’s wrong? Talk to us, please! I know you’re in pain,” she said, tracing the salty path of a dried tear. “Why won’t you let us help you?”

“There’s nothing you can do beyond being my friend, ‘Mione,” he mumbled, burying his head in her bushy mane and trying to hold back his sobs until he could crawl once again into the safe, silent haven of his bed.

“Always, Harry. Always your friend,” she promised, voice clogged with her own tears. 

Ron cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Hey, Harry, I love you, too, but you mind not groping my girlfriend in front of me?”

Harry and Hermione broke apart with a laugh before Harry pulled Ron into a bear hug and dipped him low, teasing, “Why Ron, I do believe you want me for yourself!” 

The trio spent a few minutes teasing and laughing with each other, renewing their spirits with their deep bond of friendship that had grown strong and solid over their seven years together. 

Harry looked at his friends, and once again thanked whoever was responsible for bringing them into his life. He would have gone mad long before now if it hadn’t been for these two. Sure, they’d had their ups and downs, but he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

~*~

When the sun rose that morning, waking the other inhabitants of the school, one student rolled over with a frustrated groan, wondering why the spell wasn’t working. The one on whom it had been cast _should_ have responded to it by now. He should be dreaming of his perfect lover, but for some reason he seemed to be having particularly horrible dreams now, dreams that left him dazed and apparently shaken.

The spell caster picked up a book, old and used with an inscription that read: Property of the Half Blood Prince…


	5. Dirty Boys

At breakfast, a student chewed their bottom lip, hoping to not screw up the complicated spell. With a subtle gesture, and a quick flick of a wand, the incantation was whispered, and the spell cast; the prey never knew it happened. The student remained focused on him, hoping to see some physical sign of impact, but there was nothing. He continued going about his breakfast routine as normal.

~*~

Harry sat dejectedly eating his breakfast, trying hard not to look across the Hall at Draco reigning over his loyal Slytherin subjects. His toast held all the appeal of cardboard, but he forced himself to eat. His relationship with Draco, if it could even be called that, was a closed chapter of his life and it was time for him to move on.

He simply wished he could make his aching heart understand that. He felt like he’d been given a precious gift, only to have it snatched away before he could truly examine it. And to have Draco deny their beautiful dreams was… He tore his mind away from those kinds of thoughts. If he was going to be able to make it through the rest of his life, without constantly wondering “what if,” he would need to never think about Draco Malfoy again.

He turned to Neville, forcing a smile as he conversed with the gentle boy about the various attributes of plants they were studying in Herbology. He was grateful for Neville’s shy nature, knowing that even if the other boy suspected anything was wrong with him, he would never say anything about it.

~*~

Draco’s heart clenched as he watched Harry smile at Longbottom, and draw him into a conversation that animated the other boy. When Longbottom felt secure in his subject and surroundings, he blossomed from a subdued boy into a quietly confident man with a bright smile and lively eyes. Draco began to grind his teeth; he felt sure that if he watched much longer, his molars would be dust.

Why did his life have to be like this? Why couldn’t he simply be a teenager, flitting from one crush to another? Why did his life have to be complicated by threats of violence and murder?

Draco pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. Making excuses, he left the table, walking slowly to his first class of the day.

~*~

Draco crawled into his bed, closing the curtains around it with a silencing spell. As he reclined on his pillow, the memory of last night’s encounter in the ward rose unbidden. 

_His eyes narrowed on the disembodied hand floating near his head._

_“What the hell are_ you _doing here? Get out! I’ll have you in detention for this!”_

_He watched as the hand shakily pulled back, appearing to grasp the empty air. Slowly, Harry shimmered into existence, dropping an iridescent swath of cloth to the bed. “Draco, it’s me.”_

_Fixing his face into a mask of hatred, he spat out, “I know it’s you, Potter. And what do you mean, calling me by my name?”_

_“What? But, you---”_

_“Never mind! Get out!”_

_Harry’s beautiful eyes filled with bewildered despair as he slowly shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”_

_“Doing what, Potter? We’ve hated each other since first year. What would make you think that’s changed?”_

_Harry stiffened in pain; his emerald eyes blazing. “How about the way you touch me? The way you kiss me? The way you look at me with the light shining in your eyes?”_

_Draco dropped his gaze and snorted contemptuously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter. Go back to your dorm. Or better yet, go check yourself into the mental ward at St. Mungo’s.” He forced himself to laugh nastily._

_Harry leaned in to whisper harshly, “Don’t know what I’m talking about? How about the love-bite on your neck? Hmm? Where did that come from? Or the fang marks on your prick? I was here, Draco. I was here yesterday when you were talking to Madam Pomfrey. Still want to deny it?”_

_Draco rolled his eyes, his heart tearing into shreds at the words pouring from his own mouth. “You’re mental, Potter. I think the Dark Lord has finally broken your mind. Leave me now; I want to sleep.”_

_Draco watched, a dull throb resonating in the area where his heart should have been, as Harry’s eyes turned cold and hard, and his beautifully shaped upper lip curled in an expression of disgust. “You’re a coward, Malfoy. You’re too scared to reach out and take happiness when it’s offered to you.” Straightening and grabbing his cloak, Harry said in a quiet, cutting voice, “Don’t look for me in your dreams. I won’t bother you again.”_

_Draco kept his eyes trained on the coverlet until he heard the sound of the door closing. He lay there for hours, wishing desperately for the knot in his throat to dissolve so that he could sleep._

He came back to the present with a groan of frustration, slamming a fist into his pillow. He felt the need to beat something to a pulp and the feather-filled cloth was his first victim. He almost felt sorry for anyone who pissed him off in the near future. He wouldn’t be likely to let them off with a simple hex or jinx this time.

Which was yet another reason to push Harry away. 

Sadness and futility overwhelming him, Draco felt the pull of sleep and embraced it with open arms. He needed to see Harry again, and this was the only way he could allow himself that pleasure.

~*~

Draco stood in the clearing, hands curling into fists at his sides, his voice rough from shouting. Taking a deep breath, he called out yet again, “Harry! I know you’re here. Come out.” His eyes searched the area slightly outside the boundaries of Hogsmeade, the Shrieking Shack lurking in the distance. 

Nearly ready to give up, he whispered, “I know you’re here. I can feel you. Please come to me. I need you. I need this. Don’t be angry.”

Harry’s resolve was broken by the anguish he saw hovering in the silvery depths of Draco’s eyes. He slowly dragged the invisibility cloak from his body, revealing himself to the teen standing mere feet away from him. 

“You’re here. You came.” Intense joy flooded Draco’s features as he lifted a pale hand to Harry, needing to feel that he was real, and not a figment of his overeager imagination. He paused, his hand never making contact as Harry jerked away from him.

“Why, Draco? Why do you want me _here_? You turned me away yesterday, and _now_ you want me? I don’t understand you.” Harry shook his head, a huff of air escaping him. His voice grew increasingly louder as he continued to demand answers. “What the fuck do you want from me?! How many times am I supposed to let you push me away before I stop coming back?!” 

Draco finally broke, a wild expression flitting over his handsome face as he shouted right back, “Oh, and I suppose you expect me to just drop down and kiss your robes because you finally noticed me? It doesn’t work like that, Potter! You’re so fucking naïve, did you know that?” Closing his eyes and counting to twenty, he calmed himself enough to speak rationally. “You see the world in black and white, good and evil. You have no fucking clue how the world really works. You don’t understand what it’s like to know that if you do what you want to, what you _really_ want to, you’re signing the death warrants of your family and friends.”

He stepped forward until they were nose to nose, their eyes snapping sparks at each other, their passion, as always, ruling their confrontation. “It must be _so_ nice and cosy way up there on that pedestal, Harry. Way up where everyone places you, to keep life from touching you. What would you do, I wonder? What would you do, to keep your family safe? To ensure that the people you’ve grown up with won’t end up with their guts spilling from them onto the frozen ground one day because _you_ couldn’t protect them? What would you do, Potter?”

“I would fight, Draco. I would fight with everything in me, until I had no more to give, until it was _my_ guts lying on the ground. I would never bow down, I would never give in.” Harry hissed the last words through teeth clenched as tightly as his hands. He was a mass of pent up emotions just waiting to explode and take the whole world down with him.

Draco sensed the impending storm of Harry’s anger and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Would you kill your own family, Harry? How about Weasley? Could you kill him? Because that’s what you’re asking of me, to sacrifice my friends and family for you. I cannot have a relationship with you. I might want to with every fibre of my being. But. I. Can. Not. Do. It.” 

Harry blinked and stepped back, head shaking a little as he processed what Draco was saying. “I would never ask you to kill anyone, Draco. I don’t _want_ you to have to kill anyone! How does a relationship—a real life relationship _outside_ of these ridiculous dreams—equate to me wanting you to kill someone? You’re just running again. You’re scared of living, and you’re running.”

Draco gnashed his teeth and pulled on his hair, feeling like he was talking to a brick wall. No, he thought, a brick wall would be more intelligent. What on earth did he see in Potter, anyway? Locking gazes with Harry again, he remembered exactly what attracted him. He was beautiful, inside and out, even if he was a stupidly noble and selfless prat.

Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath he said, “Sit down, Harry. We need to talk. Really talk, not sit here and scream at each other like children.” He watched as Harry took a seat on a nearby stump, absently rubbing at his forehead. 

He knelt in the grass in front of Harry, ignoring the mud under him as he took Harry’s face in his hands. “I would love nothing more than to be able to be open about what a good shag you are.” His mouth quirked in a small grin, trying to lighten the moment, but fell away again as he realised humour had no real place here. “I know I would enjoy being with you, but if the Dark Lord found out, he would take away everyone I love, one at a time, before finally killing me.” 

“You don’t really understand him, Harry. You know he wants to kill you, and that’s it. You have no idea how he acts around those who are loyal to him. Constant pain and humiliation is all they get. And if they do something to displease him… he finds ways to hurt you, beyond anything you can bear.” Draco’s eyes had dropped from Harry’s as he talked, thinking about the punishments in store for himself and his loved ones, if even a hint of what he felt for Harry were to come to light. 

Blinking to clear his mind of images of his family being tortured, he continued, “If I only had myself to worry about, I’d do it. I’d tie myself to your bed and never leave it. But I don’t have that luxury! There are too many people who depend on me to protect them, and I cannot let them down.”

“But I can help them, Draco! You can all join us, fight with us against Voldemort!” At a hiss from Draco, he amended with a roll of his eyes, “You know who. Whatever.”

“Harry, don’t you understand that, no matter what, some of them can never join you? They are trapped. They will never be able to escape him, whether they want to or not. People like my father and Blaise. My mother has managed to stay out of his control so far, but if I step over the line, she’ll be killed. I can’t let that happen. I want you, but I can’t let her die just so I can have you.”

Harry, realising Draco could not be swayed, at least not yet, from a lifetime of certainty, placed his hands over Draco’s and asked gently, “Then what do you want to do?”

“I want to make the most of these dreams. If this is the only place I can be free to be with you, I want to take advantage of that.”

Harry rolled his lips between his teeth as he contemplated what Draco was saying. “So, we do whatever we want here, but we continue hating each other in real life? I don’t know if I can do that, Draco. I’m not that good of an actor.”

A small, sad smile accompanied Draco’s softly spoken, “I am.”

Harry nodded slowly. He grinned, the humour not quite reaching his eyes, but the effort was appreciated by Draco nonetheless, as he said, “How would you know if I’m a great shag or not, Malfoy? We haven’t done that much yet.”

“Well, there’s the old witches tale about how you handle your broomstick mirroring how you handle your cock,” Draco drawled sexily, moving in closer to Harry’s body. “And I have never seen anyone handle a broomstick so well as you.” 

Harry’s breath caught in his lungs as he watched Draco’s eyes turn sultry with promise. A chill wind whipped around them, but both were oblivious as they slowly leaned in to one another, lips slightly parted, eyes locked. When they were a mere breath apart, Harry dipped his head, bringing them finally into the contact each craved. 

Draco made a low sound deep in his throat as his hands left Harry’s cheeks to plunge into dark as night hair, pulling on it slightly to get Harry to deepen the kiss. He’d needed this for so long, it seemed, and now that his dreams were finally coming to fruition, he couldn’t stand the thought of going slowly. He needed Harry, and he needed him _now_. 

Ripping away from Draco’s lips, Harry buried his face in the fragrant neck offered to him, biting and sucking, giving and receiving pleasure. He didn’t know when it had happened, but they were both on the ground now, naked as newborns, rolling in the mud and muck of the small clearing. His hands couldn’t seem to get enough of Draco’s body, roaming freely, and drawing gasps and moans from the responsive man under him. 

“Harry!” Draco shouted, pale blond hair becoming stained as he tossed his head on the muddy ground. “Gods, I can’t wait. I don’t want to wake up before we can have each other. Please, Harry, don’t wait any longer. I want you. Now. If you don’t do something, I’m going to explode!” 

Harry nodded against Draco’s stomach, feeling the same urgency. He slipped his hands between firm, pale thighs, seeking and finding the tight opening with deft fingers. Closing his eyes, he frantically wished for something to use as a lubricant and was delighted to see a phial of some liquid lying in the wet grass near Draco’s shoulder when he next opened them.

Pouring the bluish liquid out in his palm, he slicked himself and his fingers up, taking his time stretching Draco, not only to prepare the other boy, but also simply because he loved the feeling of the muscles clamping around his fingers. He was in awe of every bit of Draco that he found, from the small blemish on his hip, to the pale nipples begging to be tasted. 

Dipping his head, he gave in to temptation and swirled his tongue around first one, then the other, all the while continuing to move his fingers in and out of Draco’s body. He grinned a bit, enjoying his new knowledge that Draco was a screamer. The blond was thrashing around under him, panting, moaning, and occasionally screaming, trying like hell to hurry Harry along. 

Draco could finally take no more of the delicious torment, and yanked Harry up by his hair, snarling at him to, “Get inside me now!”

Harry, losing the capacity for speech at how sexy Draco looked and sounded in that instant, just nodded his head and raised the long legs to wrap around his waist. Taking Draco’s mouth in a searing kiss, he slowly pushed his way inside the tight, grasping channel he’d so lovingly prepared. When he was fully seated, he paused; the sensations assaulting him were too fucking beautiful to be believed. 

Draco keened loudly as he felt Harry stop, full length inside him. He’d never bottomed before, but if this was what it was like, he’d never top again. The glorious feeling of being filled was threatening to overwhelm him. He was so close to coming just from Harry’s presence inside his body, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. And then Harry did something that stole his soul.

He moved.

As he slowly began to thrust in and out, Harry watched Draco’s face, enthralled at the fierce twist of emotions he saw there. His pale, mud splotched brow was furrowed, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, and the muscles in the pale length of neck stood out in stark relief when Draco threw his head back. So lost was he in his examination of Draco, that he missed his own body’s reaction to the stimulus provided by the tight arse gripping him so deliciously. His orgasm broke over him in a surprising rush, stealing his breath and causing every muscle in his body to spasm with the force of it. 

His saving grace was that Draco was screaming his own release underneath him. At least now he wouldn’t have to hear Draco teasing him mercilessly about leaving him hanging.

~*~

A cloaked figure stood in the shadows of the trees flanking the clearing, watching the muddy boys with great interest and a keen sense of anger. 


	6. Food Fight

Harry woke Friday morning, aching from the sense of loss he felt at having to leave Draco. They had simply held one another through their last dream, talking of inconsequential things, keeping their kisses and touches light and loving. Harry was startled to realise that he had enjoyed himself as much, if not more, in this last dream as he had in any of the dreams prior. The sex was absolutely bloody amazing, but the closeness they’d shared was…heaven.

He’d taken to going to bed early, setting a lovely meeting place in his mind before drifting off to sleep. Two nights ago had been the Prefect’s bath, and that dream still left his toes curling. The things Draco had done to him under the water… Harry shivered and became half-hard at the memory. With a groan, he got to his feet and went to wash up and prepare for the day ahead.

~*~

Draco rolled over in his comfortable, warm bed, pulling his pillow down to cuddle against before throwing it through his bed hangings with a growl. He wanted to wake up with Harry, not his bloody pillow! He settled back on the bed, arms spread out as he prepared himself mentally for the day ahead. It was getting harder and harder not to cast longing looks in Harry’s direction throughout the day, but he knew it was imperative that he maintain his cool demeanour. Too much was riding on his ability to maintain the same hateful relationship he’d always had with his green-eyed tormentor. 

As he centred his mind and focused however, he was unable to block from his mind the details from the last several dreams. He was enjoying himself, very much so. He loved his private time with Harry, when it was just the two of them, and nothing and no one could intrude on them. 

His lips tilted up at the corners as he recalled their long night together. He was able to admit to himself that he was falling in love. It would be glorious, if it weren’t so heartbreaking. He knew they would never be able to be together, at least not until the Dark Lord was defeated. If he _could_ be defeated. Perhaps that was why he’d suddenly started feeling uneasy during their dreams, as if a malevolent presence were with them. 

Putting those thoughts from his mind, Draco drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before rolling out of bed to start his morning routine.

~*~

Draco sat at breakfast, watching Harry smile and laugh with his friends, feeling a tiny twinge of jealousy that they were able to be with him, share his day, and he couldn’t. He was growing steadily more frustrated with the situation, but knew there was no other thing that could be done.

“What’s Potter up to now?” Blaise asked from over his right shoulder, sliding into his seat a few minutes late, as was his habit. 

“What do you mean?” he asked coolly, turning his head to pin Blaise with a narrowed gaze.

“You’re sitting here looking at him like you would like nothing better than to kill him. I simply wondered what he’d done now.” Blaise shrugged and reached to help himself to a plate of kippers and eggs.

“He is alive and breathing. That is all the reason I need to hate him. He sits there, high and mighty, laughing with his Mudblood friends; he really needs to be taught a lesson.”

Blaise rolled his eyes, wondering not for the first time why Draco was so obsessed with making Potter’s life a living hell. “Draco, be careful. Dumbledore always has his eye on Potter. He protects him as if he were the crown jewels, you know?”

“Oh, but isn’t it fortunate that he’s always been a bit of a clumsy fool, then?” Draco asked as he casually flicked his wand in Harry’s direction, watching with a satisfied smirk as the food flew off Harry’s plate to splatter all over him, drenching his hair, face, and robes in porridge.

Draco snickered evilly before turning to Blaise, saying, “See what I mean?”

Blaise gave a smirk of his own as he pointed to Harry. “Ah, but it looks like we’re about to get company, Draco.”

~*~

Harry had been laughing at a story Seamus was telling when his breakfast of porridge and honey leapt out of his bowl and splattered all over him. It ran down his face and plopped onto his robes as well as under his collar to slither down his chest in a decidedly disgusting manner. From long years of habit, his eyes flew across the room to see Draco snickering at him, obviously the culprit of this sticky mess.

Ignoring his tablemate’s cries of alarm, he pushed himself to his feet and stomped across the Great Hall to where Draco sat smugly, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in challenge. Not even pausing in his stride, he grabbed Draco by the front of his robes and slammed him into the stone wall near where he’d been sitting. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle leapt to their feet, their intent obviously to protect their friend. They backed down quickly when Harry shoved his wand into the blond’s throat, giving them a pointed look. 

Hearing an ‘oomph’ come out of Draco, he gave a small, hard smile and _Accio_ ’d a pot of strawberry jam from the Slytherin table. Dipping his hand into the pot, he mashed the red concoction into Draco’s fair skin, rubbing it in good before upending the rest over the carefully combed hair. 

Harry saw Professor Snape and McGonagall rushing toward them out of the corner of his eye, and hurried to complete his plan before they could stop him.

Canting his voice above the loudly buzzing students, he said, “Malfoy, I challenge you!”

Snape reached them as the words left his mouth, pulling him off Draco and growling something about ‘detention’ before Harry shook him off and pointed at Draco. “I am challenging Malfoy here and now, in the presence of our fellow students and all the staff.” 

He turned to Snape and saw that McGonagall had finally joined them. “Since the Professors can’t or won’t do anything to stop these childish displays from the Slytherins, I challenge Malfoy to a Seeker’s Battle.” 

Addressing Draco, he continued, “Just you and me, Malfoy. No Beaters, no Chasers, no Keepers. Just you, me, and the Snitch. First one to catch it wins. If I get it, the hostilities end. No more hexes, jinxes, insults, or threats from you or your housemates. For anyone. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. If you win,” he paused as he thought of what he could offer. “If you win, I’ll give you one thousand Galleons.”

Draco stepped away from the wall, fists clenched at his sides and eyes snapping angrily. “I accept your challenge, but not your reward. One thousand Galleons is a pittance. If I win, you give me _five_ thousand Galleons and _you_ have to do whatever I want. Harry Potter, my little slave. Yes, I like that thought.”

Harry snarled at Draco on the outside, while he was waging an internal battle not to throw the sexy young man to the ground and lick every bit of the jam off his face. “Five thousand Galleons? I think not. Two thousand Galleons. And no, I will not subject myself to you.”

Draco sneered at him as he taunted, “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, Potter? Two thousand Galleons, fine. I’m sure you’ll have to scrape about for it at any rate. But I have money aplenty. I want you, to order around as I see fit. Come on, Potter, is it not worth it to protect your little Mudblood friends?”

They both ignored McGonagall’s gasp of “ _Mister_ Malfoy!” 

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he said, “Fine, Malfoy. I will do _one_ thing of your choosing. However,” he added, seeing the triumph flashing in the silvery grey eyes, “whatever you have me do cannot bring harm to anyone else. Not to mention the fact that I won’t harm myself. This includes any information you think I might have to give you which could potentially harm anyone. Are we clear?”

Draco thought for a minute, wiping ineffectually at the mess on his face, before he nodded once and said, “You have a deal, Potter. Shall we seal the bargain?” He held out his hand for the requisite handshake, which would seal their arrangement as a Wizarding Agreement. Neither would be able to welsh on the deal; they would be compelled by magic to complete their end of the bargain. 

Harry grinned evilly before grabbing Draco’s hand and tugging him hard against him, giving him a smacking kiss, much to the delight of the watching students.

“Are we done here then, _gentlemen_?” Snape’s smooth voice interrupted. “You will have to plan your little competition around your detention schedule. You both have detention every night this coming week at seven o’clock, starting Monday. With me. I will not ruin my weekend with your childish displays. Go clean yourselves. If you are late to my class, you will receive another week of detention.”

Harry and Draco both nodded and were turning to leave as they heard McGonagall chime in with, “And fifty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin for this ridiculous demonstration!”

Harry followed Draco out of the hall as the other students began talking excitedly amongst themselves. He caught several students placing wagers on the outcome of the match. He snorted inwardly. As if Draco could beat him. He had this competition tied up before it even started, though he would never say as much to his lover.

Draco walked into the boy’s washroom, right off the Great Hall, waiting for Harry to enter before throwing locking and silencing charms up. Taking a moment to check the room for other occupants, he swiftly grabbed Harry and jerked him into a stall. He seated him on the toilet and straddled his lap as he latched onto the perfect lips he’d been literally dying to taste all morning.

Harry gave in to the fiercely punishing kiss, softening immediately and opening his mouth for Draco’s invasion. Moaning deep in his throat, he twined his tongue with Draco’s, savouring the slight strawberry flavour, which had transferred from Draco’s lips to his mouth. Breaking away, he nibbled along Draco’s jawline, stopping to lick at the jam that had dried to a flaky finish on the smooth skin. 

Draco keened softly, hips circling in a slow, rhythmic movement. He was nearly lost in the sensations Harry’s mouth and travelling hands were pulling from him. 

“Better,” Harry rasped next to his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “It’s so much better when it’s real.” 

Pulling free and standing shakily, Draco ripped his outer robes off, heedless to the rending of the garment. When his hands went to the buttons of his shirt, Harry stood and stopped him, pain gracing his eyes as he reminded him, “We can’t. We don’t have time to do this properly. As you keep reminding me, we have to keep up appearances, for your sake if nothing else. I can’t let anyone hurt you and I won’t place my needs before your safety.”

Draco, gasping and trembling with the force of his desire merely nodded. After casting a quick “Scourgify”, he hooked a leg behind Harry’s, taking them both to the floor. “Fine,” he said, latching onto Harry’s neck and speaking around a mouthful of flesh, “if we don’t have time to do it properly, we’ll do it _improperly_.” He lined up their groins, pushing his hips hard into Harry’s, frantic now. 

Harry grabbed Draco’s hips, helping things along as he whispered into his lover’s ear, “Kiss me. I need to taste you again.” 

Although they’d been meeting regularly in their dreams, they still longed for one another with a ferocity that was rarely experienced among normal couples. When they began kissing, eating at each other’s mouths, that longing heightened their passion to such a degree that within moments both teens were stiffening in climax. They continued to hold one another tightly, unwilling to let go, now that they were finally being given the opportunity to hold one another. 

“I can’t stand this,” Draco whispered, that damnable knot in his throat again.

“I know, love,” Harry replied softly, placing small kisses along Draco’s neck, revelling in the scent and texture he discovered there. 

Draco pulled back, feeling as if he were cutting off a body part as he pushed out of the circle of Harry’s arms and climbed to his feet. “We have to clean up and get to Potions. We’re already going to be late as it is, and I’m sure there was a queue of students waiting for this bathroom. I’ll have to come up with something to tell everyone.”

Harry nodded, stood, and cast a cleaning charm on them both, strong enough to leave their clothing clean though obviously wrinkled, and their skin gleaming as if they’d just dried off from a shower. He watched as Draco pulled his outer robes back on, his Malfoy persona settling once again over his features. The rip in Draco’s normally pristine clothing gave him an idea.

“There is one way to dispel any questions, Draco,” he said. 

Draco looked at him, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Hit me.”

“No, Harry, I’m not going to hit you! I couldn’t do that. Merlin, I thought you knew me better by now.” 

Harry sighed and smirked a bit before he offered, “I’ll hit you, too. In fact, I’ll hit you first if you want, that way you don’t feel so bad about hitting me.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed in irritation before his fist whipped out and landed unerringly on Harry’s strong jaw, snapping his head back and causing him to blink a few times at the pain from the blow.

“So much for not being able to do that, Malfoy,” he grouched, rotating his jaw to ensure it wasn’t hurt too badly.

With a sigh, he clenched his fist and said, “I’m sorry,” right before landing it right on Draco’s nose, causing it to bleed fairly profusely, but giving them a marvellous cover story. 

Draco scowled at the force behind the blow, but reached over and ripped the shoulder of Harry’s collar and artfully mussed his own hair, deciding no one would be able to tell if he ruffled Harry’s.

“Well, we’ll pass inspection, at any rate. Off to Potions and an irate Snape.”

Harry drew a deep, steadying breath and nodded at Draco to lead the way.

~*~

After Potions, which Ron had not qualified for, Hermione pulled Harry with her up to the vacant common room, deciding it was high time for answers.

“All right, Harry. Spill it.”

Harry blinked at her, completely confused at her suddenly angry manner. What the hell had he done now? 

Hermione sighed impatiently, crossed her arms, and started with the dreaded foot tapping. A foot tapping Hermione was a terrifying vision to behold. 

“Okay, okay!” he cried, eyes widening in slight panic. Everything he’d done over the past several days—napping in History of Magic, surreptitiously copying her notes when she wasn’t looking, and spelling his quill to copy the homework answers for Flitwick’s Advanced Charms class—came tumbling out of his mouth. 

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she heard his confessions and after he admitted to being the one to trip Blaise Zabini all the way UP the stairs to DADA, she finally stopped him with an upraised hand. “Not that. We’ll be having a discussion about all that later, I promise you, but now I want to know what is going on with you and Malfoy. And don’t try to deny that there’s something going on.”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face at his best friend’s words and he sat down heavily on the arm of a chair, a whisper of, “How did you know?” falling from his suddenly dry lips.

“Harry, it’s _me_. You can hide from most people, but not me. I know you far too well. Is he blackmailing you, or threatening you more than usual or something? Tell me, Harry. I can help you!”

Harry blinked again. Okay, so she didn’t know as much as he’d thought. With Hermione you could never really tell how her mind was working. But she was right about one thing. She could help him in ways that no one else possibly could.

“Hermione, I have something to tell you which might come as a bit of a shock.” He stopped and thought a minute before amending that to, “Well, actually three things.” He peeked at her and was confounded to see her smiling gently at him. “What?”

“If you’re going to tell me you’re gay, Harry, I know already.”

Harry blinked for a third time. Really, this was his standard reaction to Hermione when she was in one of her ‘discovery’ modes. “What makes you think I’m gay?” he asked, truly interested in her answer.

“Harry, I figured it out in fifth year. You didn’t react quite right to Cho, and then you never looked at another girl again. However, I have noticed you looking at Seamus, Justin, Blaise, Malfoy, and every other single male in our year, plus a few sixth years. Quite gentlemanly of you not to ogle the attached boys, by the way,” she added with a grin. 

He smiled back at her, once again reminded of why he loved her so much. While she was quite pushy and even irritating on occasion, she truly had his best interests at heart and had never once judged him, for anything. He couldn’t even say that about Ron, much as he loved the redhead.

“So you know I’m gay. Well, that’s only part of what I have to tell you. Not only am I gay, but I’ve also been having dreams lately. Very vivid dreams.” He watched her face, waiting for her to make the connection. “Dreams about a certain blond we all know and love.” He watched as her eyes flared impossibly wide.

“Ohhhh, so that night…when was it? A week or so ago? That wasn’t, erm, a nightmare, was it?”

“No, not quite,” he said with a snort. “But I think I’ll spare you the lurid details, okay?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Please. Okay, so you’ve been having these dreams and they’re about Malfoy. I get that, but that’s not a good reason for you to attack him in the middle of the Great Hall this morning! What were you thinking, Harry?”

“Did you see what he did to me? He poured porridge on me!”

“It’s not the worst he’s done over the years, Harry. You said there were three things, and now I think you’d better tell me what the third is. I’m sure it has something to do with you throwing out that ridiculous challenge.”

“Well, Hermione, this is the part that’s going to be really difficult for you to believe. You might want to stop pacing and sit down.” He waited until she was comfortable on the sofa and lowered his voice a bit before blurting out, “He’s having the dreams, too.”

“Malfoy is dreaming about you?” Hermione asked, dumbfounded. “And he _told_ you about it?” 

“Erm, no, he’s having the exact same dreams I’m having; he’s in them, he’s experiencing them. These dreams, Hermione, they’re not like regular dreams. They’re real. If I scratch myself in the dream, I wake up with a scratch. That’s actually how I found out he was having the dreams, too. Remember when he was in the hospital wing last week? It was because of something that happened in one of our dreams.”

Hermione sat quietly, absorbing this new and startling information and trying to wrap her formidable intellect around it. A thought niggled at the back of her head. With all the single-minded determination she was known for, she pursued the thought until the words _Morpheus Charm_ popped to the forefront of her mind.

“I don’t really know what’s going on, and to be honest, I don’t really care. But Hermione, no one can know about this, okay? I mean it. Too many people could be endangered if anyone found out about Draco and I, not least of which is Draco himself. I trust him with my life, and I can do no less than protect his.” Harry let his face reflect his seriousness at this edict. He trusted Hermione, but too much was riding on her silence.

Hermione nodded slowly and stood, wrapping Harry in her soft embrace. “I won’t tell anyone, Harry. Not even Ron. You don’t need any more targets painted on you. But do you mind if I look into this? Discreetly, of course. It sounds like a spell I’m familiar with, but it has obviously been manipulated a bit. I just need to go check some references in the library.”

Harry grinned, hugging her back. “I think you just want an excuse to go to the library.”

She pulled away from him, lips twitching as she tried to suppress her smile. “Of all the people in the world though Harry! Malfoy? Why him?! He’s such a git!”

“Well, for one, there’s his beautiful hair, all nice and straight and _non_ -bushy,” he laughed, tugging on a lock of her frizzy brown hair in a teasing manner. “And he smells soooo good. Then there’s his excellent fashion sense.” He swept his arms wide to show his own rather too-large clothes. “ _He_ would never be caught in oversized hand me downs.” 

Harry continued to poke fun at Hermione as they walked side by side down to the library, going into great detail about obvious inbreeding between dentists. Hermione’s delighted laughter could be heard ringing through the halls long after they passed.

~*~

“So, Draco,” Blaise said as they returned to the Great Hall for their lunch that afternoon. “What are you going to ask Potter to do when you win?”

Draco smirked at his friend, enjoying the loyal certainty that he would be the one to walk away holding the Snitch. 

“Oh, I’ve given this a great deal of thought today, Blaise. There are so many wonderfully humiliating tasks I could have him perform, after all. I thought, I could have him wear a skirt and knickers to the next Hogsmeade weekend, but that’s so very juvenile and beneath me, don’t you think? Then I thought perhaps I could make him sit out the final game between Slytherin and Gryffindor, which would of course ensure that we win the House Cup. But really, how does that truly benefit me, personally? After much long, hard thought, I decided to use this opportunity to truly humiliate Potter so deeply and finally that he would never again be able to hold his head up in public.”

By this time, the whole of the seventh year Slytherins were hanging on his every word. He smiled maliciously as he allowed his lips to curl around his next words, “I’m going to make him beg me to fuck him. And then, I’m going to do it.”

~*~

Later that evening, as the rest of the student body was buzzing over the ‘Battle for the Snitch’ which had been scheduled to take place on the Quidditch pitch at ten o’clock the next morning, Hermione sat pouring over books in the library, hunting for information that might help Harry. In one obscure reference manual on soul mates, she found the connection she’d been missing.

With a gasp, she slammed the book shut and stuffed it into her bag, certain that she knew who the instigator of this strange situation was. There was only one person in the castle with the knowledge, ability, and utter lack of morals who would do such a thing, and she decided it was up to her to stop them before any more harm could be done.


	7. Confrontations

“Harry, mate, you sure this is such a good idea?” Ron asked, tugging on his t-shirt in a nervous gesture. “I mean, there won’t be anyone out there to stop him from hurting you and we really need you next week in that match against Ravenclaw.”

Harry turned and looked at Ron, blinking a bit as he processed what his friend had just said. His lips began to twitch in humour before he replied, “Are you trying to say that you think I can’t handle one ill-intentioned Slytherin? Ron, you’ve never doubted that I can defeat Voldemort, but you think Draco… Malfoy can get the best of me?” He looked wildly at Hermione, who shook her head slightly. Good, he’d covered his near-slip well. Or rather, well enough for his often-clueless best friend to not notice. He’d definitely have to be more careful in the future.

Ron flushed a bright red and ran one hand around the back of his neck. “No, you know I don’t mean it like that, but, well, we can’t afford to have you in the hospital wing or anything…” he trailed off miserably, avoiding Harry’s gaze. 

Harry laughed and reassured his friend, “He doesn’t stand a chance, Ron. There won’t be anyone else out there, no stray Bludgers, no Lockhart, no Crabbe and Goyle. Just him, the Snitch, my Firebolt, and me. With those odds, this thing will be over before it even begins, trust me.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him and said, “A bit sure of yourself today, aren’t you?”

Harry rolled his eyes and responded, “He’d never once beaten me to the Snitch. What would make you think he can do it now?”

Hermione just shook her head, hoping his overconfidence wouldn’t get the best of him.

Harry looked up as they descended the steps to the Entrance Hall, surprised to note a steady stream of students going outside, a group of them even dressed alike in black t-shirts with something written in green. He couldn’t tell what it said from this distance, but apparently Hermione could, because her face flamed red and she grabbed his arm, hurrying him from the castle.

He craned his neck to see what was going on, but Hermione was having none of that, and before he knew it they were outside the Quidditch pitch. Ron offered to accompany him to the changing rooms so he could don his Quidditch leathers and the two left Hermione to go find seats for her and Ron to watch the match. 

From the sounds floating to him from the stands, it sounded like most of the school had turned out to see him beat Draco. He smirked a bit, thinking of ways to make it up to his dream lover when he caught the Snitch first. 

Ron, noticing the smirk, began to feel just a bit better about the whole competition. 

Harry left the changing rooms and walked out through the player’s entrance to the field, waving when Ron called, “Good luck, mate! Don’t let him use any Slytherin tricks on you, okay? Ravenclaw next week, remember!”

He strolled across the pitch to where Draco waited with Madam Hooch, who he had sweetly requested to oversee the match. He didn’t expect anything other than some fairly brutal flying, but it was always good to have an unbiased judge so the Slytherins couldn’t call foul when he won. As he approached the duo, he noticed Madam Hooch glaring at Draco’s black tee shirt covered chest. Drawing nearer, he noticed some green lettering on it. Ah! It was one of the shirts Hermione had objected to! 

He squinted a bit and made out the words, ‘Tonight, It Will Be a Slytherin Your Seeker Rides!’ His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what the saying meant. 

He raised a brow at Draco, eyes sweeping the lithe, toned body as he asked, “Ready, Malfoy? You’re going to get awful cold up there without leathers on.”

“Warming charm, Potter. You really need to learn how to use your wand, Scar Head.”

Harry’s lips twitched before he rejoined with, “I’ve never had any complaints before about my ability with my…wand.”

Draco smirked and was about to reply, when Hooch cut their bickering off with a whistle blast. “Rules, Gentlemen. The only ball to be let loose will be the Snitch. First one to the Snitch, wins. No other rules have been set forth, but I will give you the standard one minute and thirty seconds to get in position before I blow the whistle for you to begin the hunt. Any questions?”

Harry and Draco, eyes locked on each other, merely shook their heads.

“Shake hands, then. I don’t want to see either of you injured. This will be a clean match, understand.” A barely perceptible nod from them both and then they were touching.

The calloused palm sliding so sensuously across his own nearly caused Harry to forget why they were here, forget everything but the driving need within him to claim Draco as his own. He was a raging mass of hormones and was tired of hiding how he felt from the world. 

Draco had nearly the same reaction as Harry to the shockingly delicious feeling of bare skin rubbing against bare skin. Sweet Merlin, if it felt this good with just their hands, what would it be like tonight when he was finally able to hold Harry naked in his arms, for real this time? 

They finally pulled their joined hands apart when Hooch pointedly cleared her throat. “You have a minute and a half, gentlemen. Good luck.”

Harry smiled a wide, blinding smile at Draco and, straddling his broom, zoomed to a point high above grassy green field. He was mildly surprised to see Draco pulling up next to him, only a split second behind him. 

Deciding to satisfy his curiosity while they waited, he gestured to the shirt Draco was wearing and asked, “What’s that all about?”

He watched Draco’s cheeks turn a bright pink as he lowered his lashes and said, “Umm, it has to do with my part of the bet. Everyone was asking me what I was going to get from you and, well…” Draco looked at him and bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I want you so much, and it’s the only way I could think of that we could be together and no one would question it.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion and he opened his mouth to get more information when he heard Hooch sound the whistle below them. His Seeker’s instincts took over then and he quickly darted around Draco, eyes scanning the air above the field, looking for a tiny glint of gold. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco swooping around, looking for the Snitch at the opposite end of the pitch. He thought about his chances if Draco were to spot it first, and simply resolved to keep one eye out for the Snitch, and one on the white blond hair of his opponent. 

Stifling a grin, he went into a dive, pulling Draco perfectly into his feint. Pulling up ten feet from the ground, he let out a laugh, senses on overdrive as the utter perfection of flying enveloped him. 

The pure joy in Harry’s laugh went straight to Draco’s gut. His palms became sweaty and his vision blurred a bit as desire twisted inside him. Damn, but he needed to find the Snitch. If he didn’t have Harry, and soon, he was going to explode! 

He redoubled his efforts, flying higher and faster in an effort to leave no square inch of the pitch uncovered. The tiny glitter of gold out of the corner of his eye caused him to nearly whoop in delight. Knowing Harry had probably spotted it as well, he immediately went in to a recklessly fast dive, pursuing the Snitch without a moment’s thought to his own safety. If he died trying, he was going to get that ball. 

Harry watched Draco dive, knowing by the sheer gracelessness of the movement that Draco had spotted the Snitch. Without another thought, he was in hot pursuit, given a bit of an advantage simply because he’d been flying lower to the ground. He spotted the Snitch at the same time as Draco pulled up next to him.

They were flying neck and neck, both on superior brooms, an elusive little ball their only goal. Harry was unsurprised when he felt Draco bump him, trying to knock him off course. “Not today, love,” he said softly, reaching his hand out, mere inches from the Snitch now.

Draco strained forward with his hand, flying faster than he’d ever flown before in his driving need to be the first to lay hands on the Snitch. 

He could barely believe it when he felt the fluttering wings against his palm. Closing his fingers quickly, he raised his hand in the universal symbol for triumph. Expecting to hear the screams of the crowd, he was surprised at the sudden silence.

Looking over, he saw Harry also holding his hand up. What the hell?

Madam Hooch flew over to them, a look of complete shock on her face that both boys seemed to be holding the snitch. “Show me!” she barked. 

Draco opened his hand, only now noticing that he was only holding half of the snitch. One wing continued to flutter helplessly against his palm. He looked at Harry who was studying him with an air of confusion. 

“Sweet Merlin, I’ve never seen it before,” Hooch was saying. Shaking herself, she cast _Sonorus_ on her throat and pronounced, “It’s a tie!”

Harry’s eyes sought out Ron’s. He’d never heard of such a thing, but Ron knew everything there was to know about Quidditch. The redhead was sitting in his seat, mouth gaping in shock. Well, no help there. 

Turning back to Madam Hooch, he asked, “So, what does that mean?”

Draco rolled his eyes and muttered, “Come on, Potter. Even _you_ cannot be that stupid. A tie is when there is no declared winner because both parties win.” Madam Hooch nodded her confirmation.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I realize that, you git, but what I meant was, what becomes of the bet? Do we have a rematch? Do we forfeit the bet totally?”

Hooch cleared her throat and said, still projecting her voice to the crowd, “Neither party can forfeit due to the nature of a wizard’s bet, which leaves the option for either a rematch or both parties pay their fines, as it were. Gentlemen, would you like a moment to decide?”

Harry nodded and gestured Draco over a few feet from Hooch so they could have some semblance of privacy for this negotiation. 

“While I don’t have a problem with a rematch, I’d like this to be over, so we can start being civil to one another in public,” he said, watching Draco for a sign of how he felt about this development. 

Draco flushed bright red as he nodded quickly. “Merlin, yes, let’s both just pay our end of the bet. Tonight, Harry. Gods, I don’t know how I’ll last ‘til then.” 

Harry’s brow wrinkled as he wondered what Draco was talking about. Tonight? Well, obviously whatever he had to do, it was going to be done tonight. He flew back over to Hooch and told her what they’d decided. 

He noticed with a sinking feeling that the Slytherins went wild as soon as Madam Hooch announced that both bets would be paid and no rematch would be forthcoming. He turned to Draco and noticed a suspiciously guilty glint in the dark grey eyes. “Malfoy, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Draco avoided his gaze as he softly said, “Part of the bet was you would do anything I said.”

“ _One_ thing!” 

Draco nodded. “I decided what I want you to do.” He raised eyes full of promise to Harry’s. 

Harry’s mouth went dry. The tee shirt suddenly made sense as he broke out in a lust-induced sweat. ‘Tonight’ took on a whole new meaning. 

Madam Hooch commanded them once again to shake hands, and they gripped each other tightly, holding on to what they could while it lasted. 

A swarm of students broke them apart and suddenly Hermione and Ron were there, leading him back to the changing rooms. For the first time in his memory, Hermione went in with them.

“Harry, are you all right?”

“Harry, mate, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I mean, I’m sorry you have to give that git two thousand Galleons, but I’ll never forget the way you two _flew_! I didn’t know Malfoy could fly like that, you know?”

Harry’s lips quirked in a small grin as he thought about how he and Draco must have looked on the pitch today. It _had_ been amazing. 

“Harry,” Hermione cast a quick glance at Ron who was still rhapsodising over the match, and asked quietly, “Did you know? About the conditions, I mean?”

He shook his head, adding, “Not until it was over. But…” he, too, looked at Ron and cut himself off. 

Hermione smiled a touch sadly and asked again, “Are you all right?”

All he could do was nod as images and thoughts of a very naked Draco assaulted his senses. A bit gruffly he said, “I’m fine, Hermione. I’ll just take a shower and meet you two back in the Common Room, okay?”

Hermione patted his arm and led Ron back up to the castle.

Harry groaned and quickly stripped, turning the water on as hot as it would go. He was throbbing now and hoped Hermione hadn’t noticed his obvious arousal. Stepping under the spray, he let the water beat down on him as he soaped up a cloth and dragged it over his body. Once he was clean, he slid down until he was sitting in the bottom of the shower stall.

Spreading his legs out in front of him, he took the sudsy cloth and ran it lightly over his scrotum, hissing at the pleasure that small touch produced. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Draco’s tongue moving over him so softly, the wet caress making him arch his back and clench his teeth against the urge to cry out. 

Unable to hold back any longer, he grasped his pulsing length tightly in his soapy hand and began sliding it roughly up and down, twisting a bit on the upstrokes. Within moments he was shouting out his completion to the empty room.

He stood shakily and used the cloth to clean himself up again. Rinsing quickly, he turned off the water and towelled himself dry, movements almost languid as his body recovered from the rush of orgasm. Dressed once again in jeans and a tee shirt, he cleaned up the small mess he had made and walked the short trek back to the castle. 

As he mounted the stairs to the front doors, he saw a figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a smug smile firmly in place. “Zabini,” he greeted coolly.

Blaise chuckled evilly and said, “Draco wanted me to pass you a message, Nancy boy.”

Harry’s eyes flared and his fists clenched in anger at the insult, but now was not the time to start a fight. He didn’t want to end up in the hospital wing tonight instead of Draco’s bed. “Give me your message then, errand boy.”

He watched in satisfaction as Zabini’s nostrils flared in anger. “Draco says to make sure you get a good nap, because he’s going to keep you up _all night long_ reaming your arse, Potter!”

“We’ll see who’s arse gets reamed, Zabini. Now, run along to your little friend, and let him know you were a good pet and delivered his message.” Harry ducked as Zabini’s fist flew at his face, the satisfying crunch of knuckles hitting stone drawing a laugh from him. “Might want to have Madam Pomfrey take a look at that hand, Zabini. And when you see Malfoy, tell him if he can’t keep his end of the bargain, I don’t see any reason to keep mine.”

“What are you talking about, Potter?” Blaise asked through clenched teeth, the pain in his hand making him groan a bit and hold it to his chest. 

“The deal was that the Slytherins would leave everyone alone. No hexes, jinxes, or insults to anyone. You certainly haven’t kept up his end very well, have you now?”

Blaise hissed, “Bastard! You can’t hold us all to the bet. It was between you and Draco.”

“Fine, but if he can’t control his house mates then I don’t see any reason to uphold my end of the deal.”

Blaise snarled at him and stomped off toward the dungeons, going to relay his message before having his hand seen to. 

Harry sighed tiredly, dragging a hand over his face. He knew he was going to have to be more courteous to the Slytherins as well, now. He had deliberately provoked Zabini and he was supposed to be setting the example. Shaking his head, he climbed wearily up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, wishing for the thousandth time for elevators in the castle. Muggle technology sure beat climbing over five hundred stairs when a person was tired.

Finally reaching the Fat Lady, he gave the password and stepped through into a packed Common Room. He was immediately surrounded by excited Gryffindors and literally had to peel Ginny off of him. Giving her a ‘what the hell did you jump me for’ look, he turned to find Ron and Hermione and motioned with his head for them to meet him in the dorm room. 

Flashing a tired smile at everyone else, he promised to answer all their questions after he had a nap, citing a sleepless night as his excuse for being tired. _Though the looks on their faces would be priceless if I told them I was tired because I just wanked in the changing rooms._ That voice sounded an awful lot like Draco. He shook the stray thoughts from his head before pushing through the mass of bodies and climbing yet more stairs to his dorm room.

When he got inside he shut the door and cast locking and silencing spells on it. He knew that the events of the coming night would not go unnoticed by the rest of the school, especially as the Slytherins were so very open about his obligation to Draco. 

He turned to face Ron, dreading telling him the secrets he’d been keeping. Taking a deep breath, he flicked his glance to Hermione who stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, asking softly, “Do you want me to tell him? I can take him to the Room of Requirement and tell him there, so no one can overhear us.” 

He smiled his thanks at her but shook his head. “No, Hermione, he deserves to hear it from me. He’s my best friend, you both are, and I know eventually he’ll get over it. It’s just going to take some time.”

Ron was looking at them curiously, having heard Harry’s end of the conversation. “What? What on earth do you have to tell me that could be so bad?”

Harry gestured for Ron to sit down on his bed, a wild thought echoing in his head that Ron would probably pass out from the shock of it all and wouldn’t it be awful if he fell and hurt himself? 

Hermione sat next to Ron, putting her arms around him, holding him back or giving him comfort, Harry didn’t know, but he did appreciate her gesture anyway. “Ron, you’re my best mate. Nothing that I say here will ever change that.” He wiped suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans, noticing in a detached sort of way that his heart was racing and a fine trembling had broken out over all of his body.

Ron noticed as well and felt fear lance through him. What could be so bad that it had Harry so visibly shaken? He had seen him face down sure death at the hands of Voldemort without this level of sheer terror. “You’re my best mate, too, Harry. No matter what.”

Harry closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ron. What I’m going to tell you is really going to—“ He cut himself off, realising that the build up wasn’t going to help him in this situation. He went straight to the heart of the matter with a softly uttered, “I’m gay.”

Ron blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again. Then he let out a nervous laugh. “That’s it? That’s what you were so scared to tell me? Okay, Harry. I mean, I’m not, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t crawl in bed with me some night, but I’m certainly not going to freak out on you over it.” He laughed again, relieved this time. “Man, you really had me worried there for a second.”

Harry swallowed hard. That had certainly gone over much better than he had planned, but at the same time he knew it was the least of his worries. “There’s more, Ron.”

“I…First of all, you have to understand that everything I tell you here is for your ears only, yours and Hermione’s, okay?” At Ron’s nod, he continued, “Something has been happening lately. I’ve been having very real dreams. In them I’m with someone and we’re…well, you know.” He was tripping over himself, delaying telling Ron everything. His friend was sitting there grinning like a loon. Sucking in a deep breath, he blurted out, “I’mdreaminofMalfoyandhe’sdreamingofme.”

Ron looked at him blankly, obviously not having understood a word. 

Hermione looked to Harry for permission before explaining, “I did some research last night after we talked and found out some interesting things. There’s a spell called the Morpheus Charm. It’s basically a charm to show you who your soul mate is.” She paused to let this sink in and turned to Ron to explain further, knowing Harry would follow along. “Someone has altered the spell in such a way that not only is _Harry_ dreaming of his soul mate, but his soul mate is sharing the dreams. Also, the events of the dreams carry over in certain ways to real life. For instance, if Harry pricks himself in the dream--” here she had to stop because Ron had started sniggering at the word ‘prick.’

Glaring at Ron until he stopped laughing, she asked very primly, “If you’re done?” Receiving a short nod, she continued. “If Harry _injures_ himself in a dream, then his body sustains that injury in real life. He’ll wake with a scratch or mark or whatever. The same holds true for Dr—umm, for his soul mate.”

“OK, so you’re having these dreams, with some bloke, and you’ve figured out that they’re sort of real in a way, right?”

Harry nodded. “But that’s not all, Ron. Soul mate, Hermione? Is that as serious as I think it is?” Hermione smiled softly and nodded, watching the knowledge flow over Harry. After absorbing all the implications of the spell, Harry smiled widely and continued to Ron, “We know who my…my soul mate is, and he’s not the one who cast the spell. In fact, he didn’t know until after he landed in the hospital wing last week after a dream we shared. Ron, I need to tell you who it is, but you have to understand that you cannot tell _anyone_. I cannot stress that strongly enough. If anyone finds out about us, he would be in great danger.”

“Yeah. You’re kind of an unhealthy person to be around sometimes. No offence, mate.”

Harry chuckled a bit at that. “Yeah. I am at that. But it’s worse for him. His family is not exactly on our side in this.”

Ron’s eyes flared wide at that revelation. “He’s a Slytherin?!” His voice cracked a bit as he asked the question, pushing Harry’s nervousness up a notch.

Harry nodded again and said softly, “He’s _the_ Slytherin, Ron.”

Ron’s face drained of all colour. “M-m-m-mal…”

Hermione tightened her arms, worried about his reaction. Harry and she exchanged a look as Ron went completely silent, shock highlighting his features.

The next noise to come from him was a small “eep” sound. 

Harry said softly, “I love him, Ron. And he loves me. But we can’t really be together, you know? Not until this thing is done. I know you’re going to hate me now, but I had to tell you because of the bet.”

Hermione flushed again at that reminder. She was extremely upset with Draco for allowing this whole situation to get out of hand, but she also knew the fine line he was walking within his House. 

“Malfoy?! Have you lost your flippin’ mind, Harry?? Does Dumbledore know? We have to tell Dumbledore. He’ll know what to do to fix this, Harry, I know he will. Whatever spell you’re under, he’ll cancel it for you. You’re not really in love with Malfoy, it’s just someone controlling you again. Probably Voldemort. Yeah, I bet Voldemort got Malfoy to do something to you, maybe slipped something in your food. That bloody bastard. I’ll show him! I’ll get him for you, Harry, don’t you worry about it.” By this time, Ron was yelling, gesticulating wildly, and nearly hyperventilating. “Oh yeah, little Junior Death Eater extraordinaire! I’ll mash his bloody face in and break every bone in his body for this, just you wait. Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll get him for you—“ The dull thud of flesh on flesh cut him off and he went over heavily, knocked out.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted, sounding shocked.

“What, Hermione?” He answered.

“Did you have to knock him out like that? You couldn’t have used a spell?”

Harry smiled grimly. “It wouldn’t have felt as good. Did you hear him Hermione? Break every bone in his body, indeed.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything as she levitated her boyfriend back into his bed. She had known Ron would take it hard, but even she hadn’t thought he would go completely insane over it. The way he had been going on, with that crazy look in his eyes, had scared her just a little bit.

Just then Ron started moaning, coming back to consciousness. “Bloody hell, Harry, that hurt! Did you have to hit me so hard?”

Harry growled low in his throat. “You’re my best mate, Ron, but don’t ever threaten Draco again. I won’t have it. Do you understand?”

Ron set his jaw, his anger once again washing over him. “It’s Malfoy, Harry, and you don’t seem to care about that at all. What about everything he’s done, eh? And not just to you but to Hermione and Justin and Neville, hell, to all our friends? You just going to say, oh, it’s okay, he’s a great fuck, and let it go at that?”

Hermione drew in a sharp breath and it was her hand meeting Ron’s jaw this time, only in an open handed slap.

“Bloody hell, Hermione! What was that for?” 

“Harry is our friend, Ron! Don’t you ever talk to him that way again! I think he knows as well as anyone who and what Draco is. If you can’t see beyond your prejudices, I’ll be happy to Obliviate you myself, and save Harry the trouble. And while I’m at it, I might just remove from your memory the fact that I’m your girlfriend!”

“Ron,” Harry cut in, knowing Hermione was only getting started. “If you don’t think you can handle this knowledge, I really will Obliviate you. I wanted you to know because you’re my friend, and there’s going to be things going on in the castle that you might object to. But I won’t let you put Draco and everyone he’s protecting in danger because you can’t keep your mouth shut, do you understand me?”

Ron shook his head. “No, I really can’t say as I do understand you, Harry, but I’m sure as certain not going to say anything. Merlin, but you have shoddy taste in men. Why couldn’t you have chosen someone better, like Neville or Seamus or Dean?”

“Besides the fact that they’re all straight, you mean?” Harry asked, a small smile coming over his face as his friend worked through his bluster. 

“Yeah, right, I forgot about that,” Ron said quietly, avoiding Harry’s gaze now. 

“Boys,” Hermione broke in, still visibly upset, “I need to go take care of some things. Will you be all right in here alone?”

They both nodded silently and she left, Harry making sure to reset the wards on the door when it closed behind her. 

“Look, Ron, I’m really tired right now. I’m going to take a nap, and we’ll talk more later, all right?”

Ron sat back on his comforter; staring up at the ceiling as he processed everything he’d learned that day. “Yeah, later. We’ll talk later. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Harry turned to go to his bed, the myriad emotions he’d been through today completely draining him of all energy. As he crawled between the bed hangings, he heard a faint, “Why Malfoy?” come out of Ron.

With a small, sad smile, he drifted off to sleep.

~*~

Hermione, realising the boys needed privacy to sort everything out, left the Tower and walked quickly toward her destination. She was on a mission, and her stride was purposeful. As she found the place she was looking for, she pounded on the door. Opening it after she heard a familiar voice call, “Enter!” she walked inside the office and slammed the door behind her.

Confronting her Professor, she crossed her arms and looked him straight in the eye before saying coldly, “I simply need to ask you _why_ you would think you and Harry shagging in his dreams is a good idea?”

She watched with smug satisfaction as the normally sallow face turned a startling shade of purple.


	8. Finally

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Snape’s voice was a deadly whisper as he faced the foolish girl, standing so impertinently before him. “ _What_ did you say?” His hand twitched toward his wand and she watched him mentally catalogue every hex at his disposal that would hurt her, but not get him sent straight to Azkaban.

Hermione’s smug grin began fade as she mentally backed up a bit. Going over all the facts quickly, she once again felt on even footing. “I know about the spell. There is only one person in this castle who is capable of not only manipulating the Morpheus Charm, but also who has the Legilimency skills required to know how to create the portal for another person to enter the dreams. You, sir, are the only person who could have done this. My question to you is why?! Why on earth would you think Harry would be your soul mate??”

With a growl and an air of menace, Snape stalked around his desk, wand pointed at Hermione, who backed up, eyes wide with fear. Her own wand was in the bottom of her bag, not where she could easily or quickly get to it. She nearly laughed hysterically at the realisation that her books would be the death of her.

“I have no idea _what_ you are talking about, Miss Granger, but rest assured, I _will_ find out. Legilimens!”

As she stood there shaking, she felt ghostly fingers rifling through her brain. It was the creepiest thing she’d ever felt, and she fought the intrusion to no avail. When he finally pulled back from her mind, she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“I always wondered how it is that Mr. Potter has managed to escape unscathed from all his various adventures. Perhaps the Dark Lord would have been successful if he had only thought to remove you from the equation.” Hermione’s eyes widened at the threat implied in those words. Her gulp was loud enough to be heard by her professor across the room.

Standing shakily, she walked over and sank into the chair in front of his office desk, saying, “If it wasn’t you, sir, I honestly don’t know who it could have been.”

“I can't imagine a smart witch such as yourself would have made such a grievous error. Did you not _think_ , Granger, before you haphazardly slapped facts together, stretching them to fit your warped conclusion?”

“You are the only person in this castle besides Professor Dumbledore who has the skills necessary to manipulate the spell to that degree. I looked it up, analysed it from every angle, and I _know_ it requires a skilled Legilimens to create the spell that was used.” She sighed tiredly and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry, sir. I really am. But you have to admit, given the limited number of people who could have done this… I’m really very sorry.” Hermione, realising how severe was her mistake, began contemplating how she might make this up to her professor. With a sinking heart, she knew that the only thing that would make him happy at this juncture would be her sudden and painful demise.

Snape snarled at her before allowing, “You were correct that I am the only person in this castle that could have created that particular spell, because I did. Unfortunately, I created it when I was a student here and wrote it down in different places as I was working on it. I have the final version in my personal journal, which will help us to a certain extent, but will not tell us which version of the spell was used on Mr. Potter.”

Hermione’s forehead wrinkled in thought, these revelations sending her into research mode. “Where did you write it down, do you remember? It would have to be something that would have survived these years in a school. I would think any scrap pieces of parchment would have been disposed of after all this time.”

Snape nodded and after a few moments of thought said, “My potions textbook. It is the only thing I can think of that would still be in use and that could have fallen into the hands of a student. An unscrupulous student, evidently.”

Hermione raised one brow at him, declining to mention he had been the one to work out the manipulations on the spell in the first place. 

“My mistake was in assuming that the spell had originally been cast on Mr. Malfoy. I simply cannot imagine why anyone would use a soul mate locator spell on Mr. Potter. It is beyond unthinkable.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “It might have something to do with the fact that he’s handsome, courageous, friendly, witty, and loyal. Not to mention, he’s quite well off. Though that last bit is not well known, so it probably doesn’t signify in this situation.”

They both sat quietly for several moments, thinking about the spell and trying to determine who could have cast it. Hermione broke the silence with a pensive, “It will have been a girl, I think. Someone who is not only in love with Harry, but thinks that he could love them back. Otherwise, why cast the spell?”

“You don’t think it could have been a boy? Why?”

“It is not common knowledge that Harry is gay. In fact, he just came out to me and Ron within the past two days, though I have known for a while.”

“And you do not think someone else could have deduced his sexuality from his lack of feminine company?”

Hermione thought about that, but shook her head. “Honestly, everyone knows what Harry goes through every year with Voldemort—“ she cut herself off when she noticed her Professor flinch and pale at the name. “Sorry, sir. But everyone knows he has a lot on his plate right now and isn’t likely to think anything of it. I know Harry well and know how much he wants to be normal. To him, part of normalcy is being like any other teenager, having girlfriends, going to parties, that sort of thing. The only thing he has in his life that…You Know Who hasn’t touched is his Quidditch, which is why I think he’s always been able to use that as an escape.”

Snape shook his head and rolled his hand, obviously wanting her to get back to the matter at hand. 

“Well, in my opinion, there are very few people who could be the culprit here. One of the Gryffindor girls, so myself, Parvati, Ginny, or Lavender. Padma, by association, since she’s always with Parvati. And Luna Lovegood. Now, out of those, we can eliminate anyone not in Potions. So scratch off Lavender, Parvati, and Padma. That leaves us with Luna and Ginny. Now, I know Luna’s family is fairly well off, so she wouldn’t need a second hand book, but Ginny… Well, I simply can’t believe she would do something like this. There has to be some other explanation.”

“Hmm. Why couldn’t it be Miss Weasley? Explain your reasoning.”

“While she has always had a crush on Harry, she would never again trust anything in a book other than the words that were originally written there. She learned that lesson the hard way with Tom Riddle’s diary.”

Snape nodded, agreeing in spirit. He also did not think the Weasley chit was capable of casting a spell of this magnitude. While she was admittedly clever, she wasn’t the brightest student. “Miss Lovegood, then. She is definitely smart enough.” 

At Hermione’s incredulous look, he smirked and said, “Simply because her reading habits are not what you agree with, Miss Granger, does not mean she is an unintelligent witch. She is very bright. She is, after all, a Ravenclaw.”

Hermione nodded reluctantly. “The question now, sir, is what do we do about this? We can’t exactly accuse her without proof.”

“Oh, really, Miss Granger? Can’t we?” he asked snidely, not having forgiven her for her earlier allegations. “As you noted earlier, I am a skilled Legilimens. I will determine for myself if she is the one who cast the spell. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do. Oh, and before I forget, fifty points from Gryffindor.”

With a groan, Hermione left his office, chastising herself for her first ever self inspired impulsive action.

~*~

Harry twisted on the bed, lost in dark dreams of cloaks, masks, and threads of green light reaching for him. He felt stifled, held down, and started thrashing harder, hands fisted, feet flailing as he tried to get away. His scar was burning, throbbing, nearly bursting with pain. With a shout, he jerked awake, hearing Ron calling his name as he gripped his shoulders tight. 

“Harry, mate, I _know_ that wasn’t a wet dream. You okay?”

Harry sat up, panting and holding his forehead. “Yeah, it’s just Voldemort again. He’s angry and pleased all at the same time. Damn, but that hurts.”

Ron nodded though he really had no idea what Harry was talking about. “Yeah, okay mate.”

Harry looked at Ron self-consciously. “So, umm, you’ve had some time to think, huh?” 

Ron’s mouth twisted but he nodded. “Yeah. I told you I wouldn’t say anything and I won’t.” His words were welcome, but the tone of his voice set Harry’s teeth on edge.

“Ron, I know you don’t like this. Hell, _I_ don’t like this. You think it’s easy being in love with someone that I can’t really have?”

“What do you mean? Why can’t you have him?”

“Think about it, Ron. What do you think would happen to him, his family, and his friends if it got back to Voldemort that he was dating me? That we were lovers? How long do you think he would have to live? How long before Death Eaters kidnapped his mother? Before his entire house turned against him for being with me?”

“Then why are you doing this?!”

“You think we just jumped into this? No, Ron, we didn’t. In fact, we’ve never been together outside our dreams.” Harry didn’t want to start the conversation down an alternate path by telling Ron about what had happened the previous morning in the washroom. 

“Then how do you know, Harry? How do you know that he’s the one for you? How do you even know how he feels?”

“Because he told me, Ron. I can see it when I look at him. I know he’s a prat, and I know he has always treated us badly, but Ron, you don’t know how hard it is for him. He’s caught in the middle of this war, worse than you and I are. For him, it’s a division within his family, with his friends. We’ve always known which side we were going to land on. He’s torn because he’s got his family that is involved on one side, but then he doesn’t want anything to do with Voldemort. He can’t just come out and say that though, because it would put him and the people he loves in danger.”

Ron pursed his lips and shook his head, still stubbornly refusing to concede that Draco truly had no choice in how he acted.

Harry sighed, not wanting his relationship with his friend to be strained, but also not willing to deny the love he felt for Draco. “Ron, how would you feel if suddenly I started hating Hermione. For whatever reason, I hated her. Would you give her up for me? Or would you hope that I, as your friend, would love you enough accept her as your girlfriend?”

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Harry, it’s just…you’ve been having these dreams for how long now?”

Harry thought for a moment and said, “A few weeks. Why?”

“A few weeks and suddenly you’re in love with him? Love takes time to develop. How would you even know if you’re in love with him? I mean, no offence, but it’s not like you really have a whole lot of experience to fall back on.”

Harry stilled, these words slicing through him. How _did_ he know that he was in love with Draco? It really had been a very short period of time since they had started meeting in their dreams…

“I know, Ron.” Harry smiled, suddenly as sure about this as he was that there was magic in the world. “I really do. I don’t know how to explain it to you, but Draco…he’s exactly what I need. In every way.” Harry’s smile turned to full-blown laughter, relieved and happy and _alive_ in a way that he had never been before.

Ron, hearing that sound come out of his friend, felt the wall he’d built up start to crumble. Harry had never sounded so happy and carefree as long as Ron had known him. Not even winning the Quidditch Cup last year had made him this happy. Ron started pacing.

He knew, deep down in a place he refused to explore, that his friend might not survive the War. He knew that he himself may not survive it, but for Harry it was more in the range of a _probability_ than a _possibility_. If having Draco in his life would make Harry happy, could he really stand in the way?

Turning back to his friend, he smiled sheepishly and held out his hand. “Harry, mate, you know I’m with you. No matter what, or who, you choose to do.”

Harry leapt to his feet and slapped Ron’s hand away, drawing him instead into a crushing hug. 

Ron laughed and pushed away after a moment. “Whoa. Don’t want to get Malfoy jealous now, do you?”

Harry grinned brightly. “I wouldn’t have to worry about Draco. Hermione’d have my bollocks in a vice if I so much as _thought_ about it.”

The friends shared a long, meaningful look before Ron noticed it was time to head to the Great Hall for dinner. Not even a silent confirmation of steadfast friendship could come between his stomach and food.

They chatted amiably all the way down to the ground floor, talking of Quidditch and classes, and generally just allowing their relationship to get back to normal. 

As they entered the Great Hall, the general din of the students cut off as if a switch had been thrown. Harry looked around in confusion; he was receiving glaring smirks from the Slytherins, worried or pitying looks from the Hufflepuffs, calculating glances from the Ravenclaws, and a variety of expressions littered the Gryffindors. As he looked at his housemates, he felt a chill of foreboding. Several of the younger students were looking at him as if he were about to be eaten while the older student’s faces reflected outrage, anger, or pity. 

“What’s going on?” Ron asked out of the side of his mouth. 

“No idea,” Harry responded, going to his usual seat and looking askance at Hermione.

She set her mouth and shook her head, giving him an exasperated look. “Harry, what is the rule about the castle? If something is supposed to be a secret…?”

Harry felt every bit of blood leave his face, then come rushing back to stain his cheeks a fiery red. “Everyone knows. They all know I’m going to…” He dropped his head on the table and pounded it a few times for good measure.

Hermione patted his shoulder in sympathy, but ruined the effect by muttering, “Maybe now you’ll get over your ‘saving people’ thing.”

Harry grinned a bit at that. His thoughts raced around his head before he focused on what was truly important about this night. He was going to be with Draco, just the two of them, able to do everything they’d literally ever dreamed of. He settled his expression into a blank mask and lifted his head, holding it high while he put a small amount of food on his plate. 

“Aren’t you going to eat more than that?” Ron asked, gesturing toward his plate with a drumstick right before he took a huge bite of dinner roll.

Harry shook his head. “I’m too…nervous to eat much,” he admitted.

Hermione gave him a worried look so he reached under the table and patted her leg to reassure her. 

The trio ate in silence for several minutes ‘til a nudge from Seamus on his other side had Harry looking up to see a group of Slytherins headed his way, led by Draco. He watched Draco move, hoping his face didn’t betray his overwhelming hunger for the sexy young man. He lifted a brow as Draco stopped next to him. 

“Did you need something, Malfoy, or did you get lost? This is the Gryffindor table,” he said quietly.

Draco smirked and said, just loud enough to be heard up and down the table, “I’ve come to collect my prize, Potter.”

Ron’s hand clenched into a fist and he half rose from his seat.

“Problem, Weasel?”

Before Ron could rise to Draco’s bait, Harry cut in with, “I thought we had a deal, Malfoy. No insults, no hexes, no jinxes.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s a term of endearment, Potter.” 

“No ‘endearments’, Malfoy. I’m tired of this. If you want me to uphold my end of the bet, you had better uphold yours.”

Draco smirked. “Fine, Potter. The Slytherins will all be good little boys and girls.”

“You’d better. Some of us have bigger battles to fight than these petty childish squabbles. Now, what do you want?”

“I want payment, Potter.”

Harry nodded and turned back to his plate, saying, “I’ll send an owl to Gringotts in the morning. You should have your payment by the next day.”

“Oh no, Potter. Let me be more specific, and speak slowly, so I don’t lose you. Your part of the bet was two thousand Galleons and _anything I asked of you_. I’ve come to collect.”

Harry turned back slowly. “Fine, Malfoy. What do you want? Spell it out clearly, so there are no misunderstandings.”

Draco leaned in and quirked his brows at Harry before he sneered and said, “I want you on your knees, Potter. You’re going to beg me to fuck you. If you beg prettily enough, I might even do it,” he said, drawing ugly laughter from the gathered Slytherins.

Harry cocked a brow at Draco. “That’s it? _That’s_ what you want from me?” he asked, trying desperately to maintain his aloof demeanour. When Draco had said, “I want you on your knees,” the mental image that flashed through his head had nearly made him groan. 

He bit the inside of his cheek to fight down his rapidly rising passion. He _had_ to keep up their charade; too much was riding on it. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Stop delaying, Potter, and come with me.”

“I’ll go with you, but _just_ with you. No one else. Take it or leave it.”

Draco huffed and turned back to his friends. “Leave.” 

Harry was extremely impressed with the way the Slytherins obeyed that command. “Good lot of trained monkeys you have there, Malfoy.”

Draco raised one brow and asked quietly, “I thought there weren’t going to be anymore insults, Potter, or are you too good to stand by your own edicts?”

Harry flushed and said, “Sorry, Malfoy. You’re right.” Looking around the table at the silent and angry Gryffindors, he said, “If anyone is going to start anything, it won’t be us. Right, guys?”

No one said anything for a long while, before Dean spoke up with a quiet, “No, Harry. We won’t start anything. But we won’t have any problems finishing it if someone else does.”

Harry noted the nods that followed this statement and said, “Fair enough. I just wanted to make sure that I haven’t agreed to this bet for nothing. I really want the students to stop all the infighting. There is too much going on right now for us all to be squabbling so much. I’m sick of it. I expect us to set the example.”

Neville cleared his throat and spoke up quietly. “Don’t worry, Harry. We’re behind you, mate. I know most of us are tired of the fighting, too.”

With a small smile at Neville, Harry stood up from his seat and looked at Draco, saying, “Well? After you, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded regally and strode quickly from the Hall, listening to make sure that Harry was following him. Once the doors closed behind them, he turned to Harry, a bemused look on his face. “I have no idea where to go. I didn’t expect your housemates to just let you go with me like that.”

Harry grinned and said, “If anyone was going to object to that point, it would have been Ron, and we had a little chat this afternoon. If you really don’t know where to go, follow me.”

Harry led Draco through the castle to the Room of Requirement, so excited at the thought of the night ahead that he missed how anxious Draco was becoming. By the time he opened the door on a beautifully appointed bedroom, Draco was twisting the material his hands together in a highly uncharacteristic fashion. 

Draco strode into the room and began pacing in front of the fireplace, worry etching his pale, handsome features.

“Draco, love, what is it?” Harry asked. He had been prepared to be tackled to the floor as soon as they entered; to be left standing alone was a bit disconcerting.

Draco turned away from him and stabbed his fingers into the long strands of his hair. “Harry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how you can even look at me right now! I humiliated you in front of the entire school, and—“ His words were cut off as Harry spun him around and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Pulling Draco’s body closer to his, he looked up the inch that separated them and said, “I don’t care, Draco. I don’t care who knows or what they think. I’m here, and I’m with you, and nothing is going to stop us from having this night. Do you understand?”

Draco looked away, face still drawn with self-disgust. “I shouldn’t have done that. There’s no excuse for it.”

Harry cupped Draco’s cheeks in his hands and forced the grey gaze to his own. When Draco was looking at him, Harry dropped his hands and slid down the lithe body, maintaining eye contact and not stopping ‘til he was on his knees before his lover. He opened his mouth and whispered, “This is how you wanted me, right? On my knees?” 

A muffled protest burst from Draco, who tried to pull Harry back to his feet. Harry simply caught the slender, long fingered hands in his own, bringing them to his mouth as he placed a gentle kiss in the palm of each. “Please, Draco,” he murmured. “Please make love to me.”

Draco gave up the fight and fell to his knees in front of Harry, unable to refrain from touching his lover any longer. His first kisses were desperate and needy, and every time he stopped for breath, he would whisper apologies. 

Harry finally stopped him by placing a finger on his swollen lips. “Enough, Draco. Stop torturing yourself over this. It’s done. You’ve given us one night to be together, let’s not waste it with apologies. I want to see you, all of you. I want to strip you down and put you in front of that fireplace. I want to touch every part of you that I can reach, and I want you to touch me back. I want to see myself reflected in your eyes.”

Draco groaned and stumbled to his feet, pulling roughly at his clothing. “I want that too, Harry. Merlin, how I want that.”

Harry stood and moved over to Draco, batting his hands away. “I want to do this,” he said roughly. Fingers shaking with a combination of nervousness and excitement, he was a bit slow to undress Draco. When he was finished, he felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush. Draco was simply perfection. 

Harry tried to call to mind the way Draco had always looked in their dreams, but with the reality of him standing there, he couldn’t put forth the mental effort necessary to do so. He raised a shaking hand and placed it over Draco’s heart, reassured in some small measure by the fact that it was racing as fast as his own. 

“Why are we so nervous?” he asked, raising green eyes to meet grey. 

Draco shook his head and swallowed hard. “I don’t know why you are, but as for me, it might have something to do with the fact that I’m standing here naked and you’re still fully dressed.”

Harry laughed delightedly at that admission before quickly stripping out of his own clothing. “There,” he said finally, “that better?”

Draco was too busy looking at him to answer. Harry reached out and caught one of his hands, bringing it to his chest and placing it over his heart. “See?”

Draco’s brow furrowed for a moment before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the middle of Harry’s chest. Harry sucked in a harsh breath at feeling the soft lips against his skin. “Draco.”

Draco rolled his head to look up at him, eyelids sliding shut as he smoothed his cheek along Harry’s chest. “Yes?”

“Rug…in front of the fireplace. Please?”

Draco nodded and straightened up, pulling Harry close to him for a moment to nuzzle at his neck. “I’m not going to last,” he confessed. “I want you so much that just seeing you like this…”

Harry nodded his understanding and nudged against Draco, urging him to move backward. They shuffled to the thick bearskin rug in front of the fire and sank down onto it, still wrapped in each other’s arms. 

Harry manoeuvred them until his back was to the fire and Draco features were highlighted by it. “Do you remember this?” he asked softly. 

Draco gasped in realisation and nodded. It was just like the dream they’d had. Only this time, they wouldn’t have to worry about waking up. He smiled widely at Harry before moving forward into a long, slow kiss. 

They took their time, exploring each other’s mouths and trying to draw out the experience, but their bodies were impatient with waiting. Draco finally drew back from the kiss, gasping, and he rolled them both over ‘til Harry was underneath him, the white fur of the rug a stark contrast to his tanned skin. 

Draco lifted a hand and gently traced it over the well-defined muscles of Harry’s chest and abdomen before finally reaching for his prize. 

When Draco’s fingers closed over him, Harry shouted and his hips bucked. He buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, undulating his hips against the hand holding him so tightly. “Gods, Draco, I can’t…”

“Shhh, it’s all right. Let go for me, love. Let go.”

Harry clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed as he gave in to his orgasm. “Ungh! Dracooo!”

Draco captured Harry’s lips with his own once again as he let go of his hard fought restraint and began rubbing himself against Harry’s hip. Harry stopped him, grabbing his hips and holding him still. When Draco would have protested, he shook his head and said, “Let me. I want to taste you.”

Draco rolled over and collapsed on his back, legs falling open in surrender, as Harry crawled between them. Looking into Draco’s eyes, he guided the head of his cock into his mouth. When Draco felt the warm wetness of Harry’s mouth surrounding him, he threw his head back and shouted, “Yes! Oh gods, Harry. Please, please, please.”

Harry obliged his begging lover and began to suck hard at the head of Draco’s cock. He flicked the tip of his tongue into the slit and then lowered his head, taking as much into his mouth as he could without choking. Pressing his tongue into vein that ran on the underside of the cock, he sucked and pulled up at the same time. 

Draco was reduced to gibberish by this small action, his head tossing against the rug as he rushed headlong toward oblivion. With one final shout, he came, spurting into Harry’s mouth. Harry continued to suckle for a few moments and finally pulled away to say, “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, but right now…I wish I had a camera, so I could take a picture of you like this. I don’t ever want to forget what you look like right at this moment.”

Draco pulled weakly at Harry’s shoulders, urging him up to lie next to him. When he had Harry arranged to his satisfaction, he pulled him into his arms and held him tightly. “I could spend my whole life doing this. Just holding you. I would give anything for tomorrow to never come. I don’t want to ever leave here.”

Harry nodded and stroked his hand through Draco’s mussed hair, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulder. “I love you, Draco.”

Draco’s arms tightened. “I love you, too, Harry. I don’t understand it. It seems so sudden, but I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

Harry froze and rose up on one elbow to look at Draco. “I forgot to tell you! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what?” Draco asked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“I know what happened. I mean, why we keep having these dreams. Hermione looked it up for me.”

“Hermione? You told Granger?”

“Well, Hermione and Ron. I wouldn’t have been able to get away tonight without a major war if I hadn’t. Actually, that’s why I told Ron. I told Hermione yesterday because she figured out something was going on between us.”

“What?” Draco asked, eyes flooding with fear.

“Oh, no, not like that. She thought you were doing something evil to me, so don’t worry that we’re giving ourselves away.”

Draco let out his pent up breath in a sigh of relief. “So, what did Granger say?”

“Well, she found out what is happening to us. I told her about you and the dreams, and she went and looked it up. Apparently,” here Harry looked down to where he was fiddling with the rug. “Um, apparently we’re soul mates.”

Draco smiled slowly. “Soul mates?”

Harry nodded, still unable to look Draco in the eye. “Yeah, the spell that someone cast on me was some kind of soul mate spell. That’s how you got sucked into my dreams, anyway.”

Draco shook his head in awe. “Soul mates. That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Why?”

“We’ve always been drawn to one another. Always. And every encounter has been rather passionate, wouldn’t you say?”

“We spent our entire school careers trying to kill each other up to a few weeks ago,” Harry reminded him dryly.

Draco nodded and waved that reminder off. “We only did that because we didn’t realise we were in love with each other. Love and hate are opposite sides of the same coin, Harry.”

Harry nodded and looked at Draco, licking his lips as he said, “So, now that we have that out of the way, want to go try out that bed?”

Draco chuckled at Harry’s less than subtle attempt to talk him into bed. “Last one there has to bottom!”

The boys raced to the bed, Draco’s longer legs giving him the advantage. He flopped back on the mattress, laughing at the look of nervous anticipation on Harry’s face.

Harry climbed up on the bed slowly, eyes drinking in the vision Draco made against the sheets and pillows. As he crawled toward the top of the bed, he allowed himself free reign with the body under him, dropping lingering kisses on the inside of Draco’s knee, the protruding hip bone, the delicate rim of his navel, the curve of his shoulder, and a thousand places in between. By the time he made it to Draco’s lips, the other boy was panting and twisting the bed sheets under him. 

“Harry,” he moaned softly, the grey of his eyes nearly lost in the dilation of his pupils. Harry stretched out on top of him, a shiver running through him at the full body, skin on skin contact. When his hips brushed Draco’s, he gasped and rocked against him, pulling pleading noises from Draco. 

Draco brought his hands up to Harry’s hips, holding him still. He didn’t want to go too fast this time, he wanted to linger, to take his time and bring them both to the brink of insanity before they succumbed to pleasure again. 

With that goal in mind, Draco flipped them both, drawing Harry underneath him as he sought to learn every taste and texture, to implant in his memory the very essence of his lover. The refrain, _we have this one night_ , kept playing over and over in his mind, spurring him to nearly desperate lovemaking. He was marking Harry’s skin everywhere he touched and kissed, wanting to imprint himself on him. 

When he sank his teeth into the tender skin at the inside of a muscular thigh, Harry’s cry brought him back to himself. “Oh, love, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Harry shook his head, eyes bright and shining with desire. “I…it felt so…again. Please, Draco, do that again.”

With a small smile, Draco lowered his head and, gaze remaining locked with Harry’s, set his teeth in the same marks he’d so recently left. A flicker of his tongue caused Harry’s breath to catch and then, when he started moving restlessly, Draco began to bite down, gently at first and then with increasing pressure. Harry’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell back against the pillows, losing control and beginning to shake, on the fine edge of passion where everything is bright and colourful and shines with dazzling light.

When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he began to beg Draco, “Fuck me, Draco, please, please! I want you in me! Please, Draco, now! Please!” 

Draco raised himself up and silenced Harry’s pleas with a whisper soft kiss. “Have you ever done this before, Harry?”

Harry, breathing ragged, merely gave a small shake of his head. 

Draco closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to rest against Harry’s chest, willing himself to go slowly, to take his time so as not to hurt his lover. He whispered a lubrication charm and smiled when Harry jumped at the unusual sensation of wetness _there_. He shifted until he was lying next to Harry before gently sliding his hand up between his thighs. 

He kept his gaze locked to Harry’s, watching for the smallest sign that he was unsure or uncomfortable. When all he saw was acceptance and love, he pushed Harry’s legs apart slightly and placed his fingers at his entrance. “If it starts to feel uncomfortable, let me know, okay?”

Harry nodded and smiled, trust shining in his eyes. When Draco pushed his forefinger past the tight ring of muscles, Harry closed his eyes and bowed his back, lifting off the bed. Draco stopped and was about to pull back out when Harry shouted, “No!” 

Draco stilled, unsure what Harry wanted. Harry forced his eyes back open, and assured Draco, “It doesn’t hurt, I promise. But you’re in me, finally, and it feels so _good_ , so right…”

Draco smiled and continued edging his finger in, twisting it a bit to loosen the muscles. He kept getting sidetracked by the look on Harry’s face, though, and by the time he was ready to add a second finger, Draco was so hard he was in pain. Slowing his movements and taking deep breaths, he was soon ready to continue.

Still watching Harry closely, he pulled his forefinger out and added his middle finger to it, gently pushing forward with them and causing Harry to writhe under him. “So much,” he gasped. Draco nodded, brow furrowed in concentration. He didn’t want to hurt Harry, but he was so damn eager to be inside him. 

To distract them both, he leaned forward and licked slowly up Harry’s cock as he gently inserted a third finger, spreading his fingers out and twisting them, working swiftly to widen the hole. While Harry continued to twist and turn under him, Draco thrust his fingers deep and turned them, searching for…”Yes! Oh, gods, Draco! What are you…? Oh, yes, oh Merlin, oh Draco!” Harry lost all ability to speak after that, reduced to open mouthed pants and hoarse screams.

When Draco felt him tense in anticipation of coming, he withdrew his fingers, cast a new lubrication spell on both Harry and himself, and quickly moved to kneel between Harry’s legs. Whispering, “I love you,” he slid inside, stopping several times to allow Harry to adjust. 

As soon as he was fully sheathed, he captured Harry’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss, smoothing his hands down Harry’s chest in an attempt to soothe him. Harry, however, was having none of that. Wrapping his legs around Draco’s waist, he began eagerly thrusting his hips up, trying to spur Draco into action.

Draco moaned into Harry’s mouth and pulled out almost all the way before slowly gliding back in until his balls hit Harry’s arse. They broke apart screaming at the sensations that action garnered, hands grasping each other tightly, Harry’s legs nearly squeezing Draco in half as his pleasure overwhelmed him. 

Draco had been holding tightly to his composure as he began thrusting, needing to make this perfect for Harry. When he felt Harry’s passage begin to contract around him, however, he lost every thought in his head and began thrusting raggedly, all control gone in his nearly animalistic need to satisfy them both. 

Harry couldn’t have remembered his own name at that point, the pleasure exploding through his body was overriding everything else. With a soundless scream, he peaked, his come spurting between them, slicking their bellies and chests.

Draco fell soon after, filling Harry to overflowing with his seed. Collapsing on top of Harry, he fought to recapture his breath, knowing he was probably crushing him, but not able to move to rectify the situation. 

Harry wrapped shaky arms around Draco and simply linked his ankles together where they remained around Draco’s hips. He would have covered every bit of his lover with every bit of himself if it were possible, but as this was the most he could do, he took advantage of that.

When their hearts settled into a steady rhythm and their breathing had evened out, Draco rolled to his side. Harry, still clinging to him, rolled as well and they spent over an hour just looking at each other and speaking occasional words of love. The experience for each of them had been more than either could describe, and they were loathe to break the perfect atmosphere of bliss that surrounded them by speaking of anything significant. 

After a while, Harry’s eyes began to droop, hard as he fought against it. Draco kissed him on the forehead, right over his scar, and murmured, “Sleep, love. I’ll find you in our dreams.”

Harry nodded and snuggled as close as possible before closing his eyes completely and giving in to sleep. Draco followed soon after, his dreams wrapped up in the man in his arms.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones to occupy their dreams that night…


	9. Where Darkness Dwells

Harry looked around his dreamscape and smiled to himself. Yes, this was perfect. A secluded hillside, with a blanket spread out on the ground and a picnic basket just waiting to be opened. Draco would call him a romantic fool—again—but Harry knew he enjoyed these dreams as much as Harry did.

Harry smiled wickedly and decided to surprise Draco when he showed up. He quickly stripped off his clothes, not noticing when they disappeared from where he dropped them. He stretched out on the blanket and basked in the warmth of the dream sun. Curious to see what kind of food he’d unwittingly ‘ordered’ for this dream, Harry sat up and opened the wicker basket.

What he saw there caused his blood to freeze in his veins. A head stared back at him, the head of Sirius, his godfather. Harry opened his mouth to scream and as he did so, the mouth of the head-- _Sirius’ head, his mind whispered_ \--opened as well, and thick black worms began crawling out, only to disappear again up his nostrils.

Harry gagged and backed away, shaking his head violently, shoulders trembling as sobs wracked his body. All at once, a searing pain lanced through his skull, causing him to fall to his knees.

“Harrryyyyy Poootttttttterrrr,” came a hiss from behind him. He scrambled around to see who was there, and was unsurprised to see Voldemort standing directly behind him. 

“You bastard,” Harry choked out. “You fucking bastard!” 

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed. “Harry, Harry, Harry.” The sinister quality of his voice sent shudders of revulsion down Harry’s spine. “Language. Whatever would your dear, departed mother think?” 

“She would wonder why I haven’t killed you yet,” Harry spat, bile still forming in his mouth.

Voldemort laughed, a high-pitched, insane sound. It was abruptly cut off as he lunged at Harry, clutching at his upper arms with a punishing grip. “And what about your pretty little lover boy?” he asked softly, his face less than an inch from Harry’s. “What would the son of Lucius say?”

Harry started trembling, his feigned bravado lost as the implications of what Voldemort was saying struck him through the heart. He shook his head, knowing before he even opened his mouth that his denial would do no good. “No,” he said shakily. “I don’t know who told you that, but we’re not…”

“Silence your lies!” Voldemort screamed, throwing him through the air to land on his back, driving the breath from his lungs. “I’ve seen you, Potter! I’ve seen you and that filthy little blood traitor! I stood here in your mind and watched the two of you rolling around in the mud, I watched as you sucked him dry in the Prefect’s bath. I. Watched. You!!”

Harry nearly threw up then and there. Those precious memories of his were now tainted for all time. The very idea that this mad man had observed his dreams with Draco burned at him, filling him with a need to purify himself and those treasured memories. He felt dirty and cheated. Why could he never have anything good and pure in his life, without this monster insinuating himself into it? 

“Ahhhhh!” Harry shouted and launched himself at Voldemort, striking everywhere he could, hoping to hurt him as Harry was hurting. Actually, if he was honest, he was trying to kill him with his bare hands. Unfortunately, Voldemort took it all and merely laughed, the sound raising gooseflesh on Harry’s skin, making it crawl. 

Voldemort thrust him back, watching through slitted eyes as he stumbled to the ground and lay there panting. “Do you know, at first I thought he was using the sex as a means of getting close to you, of making you trust him enough, so that he could bring you to me? The reward for him would have been…beyond all measure. But, perhaps he has given me a means of destroying you, anyway, a way to bring you to the fine edge of death, so that I might push you in. Yes…yes, I think he has. You stupid boy, you actually _love_ him, don’t you?”

Harry shook his head fervently, trying desperately to think of some way of convincing Voldemort that his dreams of Draco were not real, that Draco himself had played no part in them. 

“It’s just a dream, _Tom_ ,” he said, trying to inject some bravado into his statement. He needed Voldemort to believe him. He needed Draco to be safe, no matter what the cost to him personally. “I mean, he’s a bloody git, but he’s a fucking _hot_ bloody git. So yeah, I have dreams about him.” He carefully climbed to his feet, trying unsuccessfully to cover his naked form. “How on earth could you think that any of it is real?”

Voldemort hissed in displeasure and raised a hand, curving it into a fist in front of Harry’s face. “I told you not to lie to me, Potter. You would do well to remember that. Think you that I don’t know the difference between a shadowy dream lover, and the presence of another’s mind in close proximity to my own? You foolish, foolish child. That Dumbledore truly sees you as the hope for wizardkind is laughable. You cannot stop me, boy. No one can. Now, once again, I will take that which you love, which you need, away from you. How pitifully easy it is, Harry, to do this over and over, but how pleasurable.” 

At that moment, Voldemort did something, Harry didn’t know what, that caused a bolt of pain to slice through him, originating in his scar, and spreading through his body, leaving him defenceless in the face of it. He watched, helpless, as Draco appeared, a smile lighting his features before realisation dawned.

Voldemort laughed again, that high pitched, evil laugh. He flew at Draco, and as he touched him, they both disappeared, leaving Harry kneeling on the soft, cushiony grass as the smell of decaying flesh reached his nose. 

*

Draco’s lips held a soft smile as he drifted off to sleep. He’d just spent the most amazing night of his life, with the man he loved more than he could ever have imagined, and now, thanks to some poorly performed spell, he would be able to continue that evening in their dreams, while their bodies refreshed themselves.

As he woke to the dream, he took in the pastoral setting and smiled softly, not noticing at first that he and Harry were not alone. As he looked around, and registered that it was Voldemort standing over Harry, who was writhing in pain on the ground, he felt a terrified fury pour through him. All he could comprehend at first was that his love was in danger. It took too long for him to realise that Harry was looking at him with an expression that perfectly matched the emotion burning a trail through Draco. 

He watched, too stunned to do anything other than stand there like an idiot, as Voldemort seemed to fly at him, and then suddenly, everything was dark. The soft, green fields were gone, the blanket and picnic basket a thing of a different life, a different time. 

Draco felt an icy coldness envelop him, even as he realised that wherever he was, he had no body, no form. He was merely a spirit floating freely on the waves of thought, a formless entity in this blank, merciless universe in which he suddenly found himself. 

A voice, or a thought, _something_ spoke to him, telling him what he fool he was to believe anyone or anything loved him. It seemed to take everything that was good in his world and wrench it from him in the most horrifically painful way possible. Within moments—or maybe it was years, he couldn’t tell—he could barely remember what happiness and contentment had ever been. The only emotions he could comprehend were fear and an overwhelming horror. 

As his soul began to go numb, he caught hold of one moment and held it close. It was the shine of love captured forever, in eyes greener than anything the gods of nature could conceive. That one image, or memory, or whatever it was, sustained him now, made him stronger. 

He felt his consciousness, his will, returning to him as he held on to Harry’s love. His terror was not lessened at all, nor did the cold abate to the slightest degree, but he knew now that as long as he could hold on, he could make it through this. He _would_ be with Harry again; he simply had to hang on. 

Draco focused on that one thought, holding on to it as if his life depended on it, since it very well did. 

* 

Harry woke up, his scar blazing, and immediately turned in Draco’s loosened embrace to reassure himself that his dream had been only that—a dream.

He put his hands to Draco’s cheeks and patted, a bit more harshly than he had intended, perhaps, but certainly enough to get the job done. When Draco did not respond and merely lay there on the bed, lax, Harry began to panic all over again. He knelt up and took Draco by the shoulders, shaking him roughly, tears falling unheeded down his cheeks as he shouted at him to “Wake up!”

Again, Draco did not react, the silent, steady rising and falling of his chest as he breathed the only sign that he was still alive. 

Harry was trembling all over in a combination of shock and terror. Voldemort had done what he promised. He had stolen Draco, trapped his mind, taken him to a place that Harry could not reach. Being faced once again with a situation in which he could not save a loved one hit Harry with the force of a freight train, driving the breath from his lungs. He felt the same as he had after watching Sirius fall through the veil: powerless, shocked, impotent. 

He gathered Draco’s unresponsive form in his arms and began rocking back and forth, keening softly. His mind was blank, all thought forced out with the depth of his grief. He would have been numb, but for the tears that continued to trail down his cheeks.

Lost as he was, he didn’t hear the voices outside the door.

*

Blaise smirked evilly, leading nearly the entire house of Slytherin to the Room of Requirement to witness first hand the humiliation of Harry Potter, golden boy of Gryffindor. He waited outside the door, giving himself a mental pat on the back for placing a tracking spell on Draco the night before, so that he would know where they had gone to take care of Potter’s little debt. 

Striding confidently to the door that was positioned in the middle of what once had been a blank wall, he gave three sharp raps and flung it open, entering the room with a wicked laugh. As he scanned the room for signs of Potter’s downfall, he took in the trappings of seduction with a sneer. The fire still blazed, the rug looked a bit matted down but still thick and luxurious, and the bed curtains were still drawn, giving the occupants their privacy.

Well, that would just not do. Blaise stalked to the bed and threw apart the hangings, ready to laugh snidely in Potter’s face. What he saw, however, had him scrabbling at his robes for his wand. 

He’d never seen such a look of utter destruction on a person’s face as he did on Potter’s. The boy was rocking back and forth, crooning something unintelligible to Draco, who lay limply in his arms.

“What have you done?” Blaise whispered in shock, even as he sensed someone behind him gasp and run from the room. “Petrificus Totalus!” he cried, a bolt of light shooting from his wand and hitting Harry squarely in his chest, knocking the boy off his knees and sending him sprawling stiffly onto the bed, his nakedness on display for all to see.

Blaise ignored him completely and rushed forward to find out what was wrong with Draco. After shaking him and casting Ennervate and Finite Incantatem on him, Blaise began to seriously worry. His friend was still alive, his heart beating steadily, and breathing regular. In fact, it was as if he were merely sleeping.

After a few minutes, he heard the harsh whispers behind him go instantly quiet, and suddenly his Head of House was right there beside him, asking in a clipped voice what was going on.

“It’s Potter, sir. He’s done something to Draco. I don’t know what, but Draco isn’t waking up. I think he slipped him a potion, because I’ve tried every counterspell I can think of.”

“What’s wrong with Potter?” Snape asked, a touch of what could have been concern, but probably wasn’t, sharpening his tone. 

“I Petrified him, sir. He was sitting in here, holding Draco, and acting rather insane.” Blaise sneered the last bit, expecting his Professor to make a rejoinder about Potter’s mental state. When he didn’t, and simply ended Blaise’s spell on Potter with a softly uttered “Finite Incantatem,” Blaise’s worry increased tenfold. 

Potter sat up groggily and flushed, pulling the blankets around himself before his memory returned fully. When it did, the change was terrible to behold. The light died from his eyes and a fine, steady trembling overtook him. Small, choked sobs wracked his frame as he once again pulled Draco’s unresponsive body to him. 

“Potter!” Snape growled harshly. “Get hold of yourself, boy!” Turning, he ordered the students from the room, casting a calculating look on Blaise, before coming to the obvious conclusion that he wouldn’t be able to get him to leave. Once it was just the four of them, he lowered his voice and asked, “What happened?”

Potter shook his head and curled his body around Draco. His hand began stroking over the skin of Draco’s cheek, and he started with the weird crooning noises again. 

Blaise whispered to Snape, “That’s what he was doing when I got here, sir. He’s obviously lost what little sanity he might ever have possessed.”

Snape stepped up to the bed and knelt on the mattress before raising his hand and slapping the hell out of Potter. Blaise was impressed despite himself. Potter’s head snapped around, but otherwise he didn’t move. However, the blow had the desired effect. Potter seemed to come back to himself a bit, enough to glare furiously at Snape, at any rate.

“What the hell?” he snarled. His hands curled into fists and he was obviously prepared to return the open handed blow with one of his own, before Snape’s next words stopped him.

“Beyond the fact that I’ve wanted to do that for years, you were clearly hysterical, Potter, and I need answers. Sitting there crying like a girl over Draco’s comatose body clearly wasn’t getting you anywhere, so shall we try it my way? Now, tell me what happened!”

“It was…” Potter trailed off as he looked at Blaise, truly seeing him for the first time. “Err… I think we should discuss this elsewhere, sir.”

Blaise growled softly. “No way are you leaving this room in one piece, Potter, not after what you’ve done to Draco.”

Blaise watched Potter flinch and his arms tighten around the boy in his arms. “I don’t know what… I don’t know what to do, sir,” Potter whispered to Snape, voice heavy with pain. “I don’t know how to help him, how to make him wake up. He’s trapped there, and I’m afraid he’s going to die, and I won’t be able to save him.”

“Get dressed, Potter,” Snape said, pulling Draco from Potter’s arms and covering him with a blanket. “Meet me in the infirmary.”

Potter scrambled off the bed and grabbed his wand. With a flick, his clothing was once again securely on his body. He and Blaise half ran from the room, quickly catching up with Snape. 

*

After what felt a millennium, Draco began to realise that he could navigate around this horrible blackness. He had no concept of motion, really, but some areas seemed less cold, some had a hint of light that seemed to want to shine through. He moved toward those areas, longing for anything to bring a semblance of life back to him. He was sure this is what being dead felt like, and he wanted to be alive. He wanted to find the green eyes again, though his perception of the green eyes, and who they belonged to, was fading more with every moment. He only knew that he had to remember the green eyes, remember them, and hold on to the joy he still felt because of them.

He was surprised as he heard voices, whispers in the dark, memories calling to him. He pushed himself, his essence, toward those softly calling voices.

*

Snape listened to Harry’s account of his dream silently, the entire force of his intelligence dedicated to finding some hint of a solution to their current dilemma in the rather disjointed report. When Harry stumbled to a halting conclusion, Snape looked over at Dumbledore, who had Flooed directly from the Headmaster’s office when Snape firecalled him.

There was only one thing Snape could think of to try, but it was a huge risk and something only he or the Headmaster would be capable of undertaking. He steeled himself for a battle with the elderly wizard, knowing by the way his stooped shoulders straightened with resolve, that Albus was contemplating doing it himself.

“No, Headmaster,” he said softly, but firmly. “If anyone is going to do this, it will be me.”

“Do what?” Harry asked, confused. He felt physically and mentally drained after the intense emotions of the morning. Just looking at Draco’s still body under the white sheets of the infirmary bed made his heart clench in his chest. But he needed to concentrate, to help. If he did nothing else in his life, Harry was determined that he would save Draco, or die trying. 

The two older wizards ignored him completely. 

“Severus, I’m sorry, but I must insist that I be the one to take on this task. Mr. Malfoy is a student in my responsibility. It is my duty to help him, and I cannot afford to let Voldemort know that you are on our side. If he notices your presence—“

“We can’t worry about what ifs, Albus. We need to act quickly, and if anyone is going to be trapped, it would be far better that it be me. We can’t risk anyone else, certainly not you. We don’t know how long it will take to find him, and the Dark Lord will surely be expecting something of this nature—“

The doors to the infirmary crashed open, interrupting their quiet argument. Hermione Granger jogged quickly between the rows of beds, panting slightly as her eyes locked on Snape’s. “Sir,” she gasped out. “I found her. I know who did it.”

She stepped to the side, showing what had previously been blocked from his view—the stunned and levitating body of a Hogwarts student.


	10. Utter Insanity

Ginny Weasley watched Draco Malfoy saunter across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table, her insides clenching in anger. She hated Malfoy, hated him with a passion that exceeded nearly everything else in her life. Everything, that is, except her love for Harry. 

She turned to look upon the face of the boy with whom she’d been in love since the first time she laid eyes on him. They were destined to be together, fated one for the other. She knew this with every fibre of her being. She knew, deep down in her soul, that Harry returned her feelings. She knew that the only thing standing in the way of him confessing his love to her was his fear that she would once again be hurt because of him. 

She smiled softly at him, her devotion shining in her eyes for all to see, as she remembered the many times he had put himself in danger to protect her. He had nearly died trying to save her in the Chamber of Secrets, and then had bravely faced a dozen armed Death Eaters, placing himself between her and them. He had even gone so far as to separate from her and draw the wrath of the Death Eaters, led by Lucius Malfoy, upon himself, giving her time to flee.

Her dorm mates had commented a few times that her love for Harry bordered on obsession, but really, who could blame her? He was perfect. He was the only man she’d ever known who was totally without flaw. The beauty that shone on the outside was rivalled only by the unequalled purity of his soul, the soul that was mated to hers. 

The conversation at the table pulled her from her reverent thoughts. What was this? What were they talking about? Harry was going to go somewhere with Draco Malfoy? Malfoy, the sickeningly evil git, whose one goal in life was to bring heartache and suffering to her love, her Harry? No, no, she smiled softly to herself in relief. Harry wouldn’t go with him. 

But then, Harry stood up and followed Draco from the Great Hall. Ginny looked around in confusion. Most of the students at the Gryffindor table seemed angry at this, nearly as angry as Ginny was. Well, she wasn’t really angry. Who could be angry with Harry, after all? Perfect Harry. She smilingly chided herself for her wayward thoughts of her love. 

He was trying to save them all again, that’s all it was. He was trying to make the anger and insults stop. He should really be commended. Why was everyone being so mean? Why was Seamus snarling something about Harry being queer? Harry wouldn’t really do any of this. He loved her! He wouldn’t betray her in that way! She sat for a while, growing steadily angrier at the horrific things that people were saying. Finally, near the end of the dinner hour, she had enough.

She cast an angry glance on the rest of the diners at the Gryffindor table and stood up, her food untouched as she left to follow Harry. She knew where he was at all times now. She could find him wherever he went. George had given her an excellent tracking spell, and she had always been good with spells. Well, all but that one spell… 

She sighed. No reason to think of that now, was there? It had obviously been an incomplete spell she’d found in the Half Blood Prince’s Potions book, one that didn’t work. Otherwise, Harry wouldn’t have been able to deny their bond any longer, even if it meant placing her in harm’s way. She smiled fondly again, thinking of his extreme sweetness in wanting to protect her, the one he loved above all others. 

She walked slowly, feeling no real need to rush. She knew Harry was in the Room of Requirement, knew that he was probably trying in his sweet, heroic way, to convince Malfoy that Voldemort was evil. She shook her head as she thought of Harry’s naivety. He could never believe that some people were just inherently evil, that there was nothing he could do to save them. Merlin knew she would have to shield him from the harsher realities of life when they were married. 

He was simply too innocent to understand, but she loved that about him. Even when he was saving everyone from evil, he was never touched by that evil himself. He was simply everything that was pure and perfect, and she would safeguard him forever if need be. 

As she approached the Room, she heard muffled noises coming from within…

~*~

Hermione woke with a start, the sound of breaking glass jerking her from her dreams. She hurriedly threw on her dressing gown and ran lightly down the stairwell to the common room, where she found Ginny Weasley ranting like a madwoman.

“That _bastard!_ ” she screamed, picking up a book and hurling it into the fireplace. “I’ll make him pay. I’ll make him PAY! He can’t do this to me! He was supposed to love _me_! How _dare_ he tell Malfoy that he loves him! He’s _mine!_ ”

Hermione slowly approached the raving teen, slightly scared at the look of pure madness that radiated from her twisted features. “Ginny?” she asked softly, hesitantly. “Ginny, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

“He betrayed me! Harry…Harry is up there, _right now_ , and he’s _fucking_ Malfoy!” she screeched. “He’s fucking him! He’s mine, and he’s fucking _him!_ ” 

“Ginny…” Hermione trailed off as Ginny went into a fit, swinging her arms wildly about, flinging items from various tables onto the floor, some of them close enough to the stone walls to shatter brilliantly. 

“Do you know what he said?? _Do you?!_ He said, ‘Gods, Draco, fuck me! Fuck me! Please!’ He was begging for it, Hermione! Taking what was mine and giving it to that smarmy bastard!”

“But I’ll show him,” Ginny said, straightening, and calming almost instantly. The switch was so sudden, so unexpected, that Hermione was momentarily stunned. The other girl’s voice took on a dreamy quality, reminding Hermione uncomfortably of Luna Lovegood. “He’s mine, Hermione. I’ll have him back. If I can’t have him, no one will.”

It hit Hermione then, hit her like a bolt from the blue. She’d been wrong, so very wrong, when she told Professor Snape that Ginny couldn’t have been the one to cast the spell on Harry. They’d all obviously missed this hidden madness in the girl…

Hermione turned suddenly as she saw Ron coming down the stairs leading to the boy’s dorm, his face still lined from sleep, trying to tug his dressing gown on. He was obviously investigating the noises that had woken Hermione, but she’d always been easier to wake than him.

Walking over to her boyfriend, she put her arms around him and whispered in his ear about what was going on. She watched his face as he took in the devastation of the common room caused by his little sister, and felt her heart twist in sympathy for him when he turned a stunned glance on his sister. Ginny was still standing in the middle of the room, speaking in that strange voice as she described her “punishment” for Harry. 

Ron shook his head, obviously not wanting to believe his sister capable of this level of violence. Hermione touched his arm and pointed to his wand, then back to the stairs to the girl’s dormitory. She had left her wand up there. He nodded and cast a soft, “Accio Hermione’s wand,” handing it to her when it arrived.

Hermione turned back toward the girl who she had always thought of as a sister, and cast a quick series of binding and levitation charms on her, knowing that she needed to bring this matter to Professor Snape’s attention immediately.

~*~

When Hermione entered the infirmary, followed by the floating body of Ginny Weasley, everyone in the room, including Professors Dumbledore and Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Blaise Zabini, and Harry Potter, started in surprise. It was well after midnight by this time, and the story the Gryffindor Head Girl told was nearly unbelievable.

Professor Snape and the Headmaster took Ginny into an isolated room and locked the door behind them, pausing only long enough for Snape to collect a vial of Veritaserum from the mediwitch. 

It was a long while later before anyone left that room…

~*~

When Professor Snape came back into the main wing of the infirmary, he was met with three concerned students, though not the trio he would have thought. Granger, Weasley, and Zabini stood there, looking at him like he had all the answers. He ran a weary hand down his face as he realised he had none to offer them.

He turned and sent a questioning glance at the Headmaster; after receiving his nod, he went to speak with Potter. Dumbledore took the other students to the side to explain to them what had transpired with the youngest Weasley, and to let her brother know of her eminent transferral to St. Mungo’s for a mental evaluation.

“What’s going on, sir?” Potter asked him when he approached. The boy was still sitting on Draco’s bed, stroking the pale hair with a gentle hand. 

“Miss Weasley is quite insane, Mr Potter, but she has given us sufficient information to know how to proceed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Headmaster and I have devised a plan. We are going to recast the spell Miss Weasley used on you.”

“What?! But that’s what started this whole mess in the first place! Her casting that damn spell on me!”

Snape scowled darkly at Potter, irritated at the boy’s tendency to interrupt him at every turn. “Potter, when Miss Weasley cast the spell the first time, it worked exactly as it was meant to. Which is surprising in itself, considering her mental state and usual ineptitude,” he sneered. 

Potter glared at him and said harshly, “Part of your problem, Professor, is that you refuse to acknowledge when a student is capable, especially if said student is not a Slytherin. Ginny has always been excellent with hexes and charms. I’m not surprised at all that she was able to perform the spell; I am simply astounded that she used it on me. I never gave her any indication I thought of her as anything other than a friend.”

“Well, she’s quite delusional Potter. She was ranting in there about how you were meant for each other. When I told her that was quite unlikely, as you were as gay as a double headed Knut, she started screeching that Malfoy had obviously used a love potion, or some other such nonsense to take you away from her. She had definite plans for the two of you and went quite round the bend when she heard you…ahhh…well, shall we say she heard you expressing yourself to Mr. Malfoy this evening, and leave it at that.”

Harry lowered his head in despair. “How did we all miss it? Surely there would have been signs of her…instability…before now. I just don’t understand how we, all of us, those who were supposed to love her and watch out for her, could have failed her so completely.”

Snape sighed irritably. “Save your bitter recriminations for a more appropriate time, Potter! This is no time for Gryffindor sentimentality, with the weeping and wailing! Or, do you not wish to help Mr. Malfoy?”

Harry’s head snapped up and a look of desperate hope flashed across his face. “You can help him?”

“If you were capable of holding your tongue for more than five seconds, you _might_ have noticed that I have been attempting to explain. The altered Morpheus Charm will be recast. The first time this Charm opened the portal for your soul mate, Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry held up a hand to stop him, sending an apologetic look at his Professor as he did so. “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt again, but do you think you could call him Draco? Just, it makes me slightly ill when you call my soul mate ‘Mr. Malfoy.’ I will always think of Draco’s father when I hear that name, and needless to say, he’s as far from being my soul mate as a person could be, with the possible exception of Voldemort himself.”

Snape sighed and nodded before continuing with his explanation. “The first spell opened a portal for _Draco_ , then. The second spell merely opened a portal in your subconscious, which anyone with the ability to do so could access. That is how the Dark Lord gained entrance to your shared dreams with Mr—Draco. What the Headmaster and I are proposing is to open yet another portal.”

“Sir, shouldn’t my Occlumency have prevented this? I mean, I’ve been successful in holding him out up ‘til now, how is he getting past my shields?”

“The portals bypass your Occlumency.”

Harry felt a chill go through him at the fact that his mind was once again wide open to Voldemort.

Sensing Harry’s thoughts, Snape reassured him with a gruff, “We are fairly certain that the Dark Lord would have closed down his connection to you when he took…Draco, but you have another connection to him that we are hoping he would not have thought of. Your connection through your scar.

“When we open the third portal, I am going to access your dreams, your subconscious, and follow that connection. Hopefully, I will be able to find Draco and basically guide him back. Before you ask a stupid question, there is no way of ‘grabbing’ another consciousness.”

Harry still looked distrustful. “But sir, I _was_ able to touch him in my dreams, and he was able to touch me! I mean, we could affect each other’s _physical_ beings through them, much less our subconscious!”

“Mr. Potter, the Morpheus Charm did _not_ make you and Draco soul mates. It merely showed you who your soul mate was. You and Draco are bonded, your souls are basically one. I am not a part of that bond. Therefore, I cannot affect his subconscious like you can.”

“Then let _me_ do this,” Harry pleaded.

“Teaching you to become as skilled a Legilimens as is needed for this task would take decades. Draco does not have that long. Now, do you trust me to do this?”

Harry drew in a shaky breath and looked down at Draco’s still form. “We’ve wasted enough time on explanations. Do what you need to do to help him. Please.” 

Snape felt a twinge of pity at the lost look in Potter’s expressive eyes. He nodded once and said, “I need you to go to sleep. I do not want to take a chance on putting you into a false slumber. That might interfere with the Charm.”

Harry swallowed hard and looked up with a touch of fear in his eyes. “Sir, I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep. I’m so worried about Draco…”

“Use the techniques you learned in your Occlumency lessons. Empty your mind, block out all thought, and relax. With your…activities of this evening as well as the mental stresses you’ve been through and the lateness of the hour, you should find yourself asleep rather quickly.”

Harry nodded and reluctantly left Draco’s bed, lingering long enough to brush a gentle kiss across his forehead. “I love you,” he whispered softly, before padding over to an available cot and settling onto it. 

Folding his hands over his chest, he concentrated on his breathing, listening to the steady in and out of it, using that sound to chase all conscious thought from his mind. He’d been doing this for so long that instinct kicked in, and within ten minutes, he had slipped into a restful sleep.

Snape stood watching, and when he saw Harry’s features relax, he lifted his wand and began the intonation…

~*~

Snape felt his essence travel along the thin thread that connected Potter’s mind to the Dark Lord’s. Even here, he would not think the creature’s name. Especially not here. It was dangerous enough that he was attempting this. 

There would be no more spying from this moment on. He was not foolish enough to believe that the Dark Lord would not sense his presence, but he vowed to do everything in his power to bring Draco back. The boy was his to protect and protect him, he would.

He felt it the moment he entered the Dark Lord’s mind. The aching emptiness, the lack of anything other than a cold evil that permeated Snape’s consciousness, made him long to forget himself and simply give over to the all encompassing darkness. He steadied himself, though it required great effort. He had to hold on to his sense of self if he was going to accomplish his goal. 

He sent out his essence, casting about for Draco. He could only hope that the boy was strong enough to have survived this long in the Dark Lord’s mind. He knew that hope was probably for naught, but he held on to it. 

As he drifted closer to the core of the Dark Lord’s consciousness, to where his latent memories were buried, he sensed a lessening of the darkness in one contained area. He moved toward that, hoping against hope that it was Draco, that he had found him. It seemed he’d been here for an eternity already, and as he moved to surround Draco’s consciousness for the return journey back to Potter, Snape heard voices, whisperings of something he would never have believed if he hadn’t been here to experience it.

The hope he’d been struggling to hold on to surged as he realised that the secret, the key, had been buried here the entire time…

~*~

Harry woke with a start as he felt a hand on his arm. Turning to Draco’s bed, he saw no change, the rise and fall of his chest still steady and even. He looked up, into Snape’s eyes, feeling his hope die. It hadn’t worked. He swallowed a sob as his Professor began speaking.

“I know the answer, Potter. I know how you can defeat the Dark Lord!”


	11. A Battle Joined

Burning warmth, and a brightness, to pierce his fractured soul sliced through his consciousness. He followed the thread of the link into the light. If he had the ability, he would have blinked against the dazzling purity of the mind he ruthlessly invaded. He allowed the essence of his consciousness to reach out, and insinuate itself into the one he was leeching onto in his parasitic manner. Using the boy’s senses he heard, 

_”I know the answer, Potter. I know how you can defeat the Dark Lord!”_

Recognising that voice, he allowed his rage to propel him forcibly back into his own body. With a small, cruel smile, he touched his wand to his servant’s arm just above the silver hand, intoning low and smooth the words to an ancient spell.

~*~

Harry looked at Professor Snape in a strangely detached manner as they moved through the infirmary toward the room where Dumbledore was sitting with Ginny, awaiting the St. Mungo’s officials. He’d never seen Snape look so…exhausted. He looked worse than at any time Harry could remember, even after reporting to Dumbledore directly after a Death Eater meeting one night. 

“Sir, what did you find out?”

Snape turned and was about to issue a scathing retort when his eyes flared wide and he gripped his own arm just below the elbow. Harry watched in growing concern as the normally coolly collected man fell to his knees, face reddening with the effort to not cry out. 

Severus felt the pain spread through his body, originating in his Dark Mark, and radiating from there to every pore, exploding in star bursts behind his eyes. The muscles in his neck stood out as he grimaced against the pain. This was far worse than any Crucio he’d ever been placed under, and the concentration he was extending to block his mind and thoughts from being taken by the pain was slowly eating away his stubborn will. 

Harry watched as Snape’s eyes rolled up and gasped in horror as he saw that the whites had gone a bright red as the blood vessels in his eyes burst. Snape wasn’t even breathing anymore, was holding everything inside to keep from betraying the amount of pain he was under. As Harry watched, Snape’s shoulders hunched as he literally curled around the pain. 

“PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!!” Harry screamed, dropping to his knees beside Snape, but afraid to touch him lest he make it worse. He had no idea what was going on; there was a curious lack of anything from his scar. 

Snape suddenly grabbed him, and with the last bit of strength the man possessed, told him through clenched teeth, “No…magic. You can’t…use anything magical…against Voldemort. Warn… the students and Professors…ahh! He’s…coming. Death…Eaters.” The last word was a near whisper of pain before Snape collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Harry looked up, overwhelmed with fear and confusion, as Professor Dumbledore came at a run, booted feet slapping the tile floor as the old man gave a shout of, “Poppy! We need you!”

Dumbledore turned to Harry, who realised he was holding onto Snape with a tight grip. “What happened, Harry?”

Harry shook his head, words failing him. 

Dumbledore took Harry’s face in his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m going to look, Harry. Please relax.”

Harry nodded, relieved. 

“Legilimens!”

Harry didn’t know how long Dumbledore spent inside his head, time was a concept he was having difficulty processing at the moment, but he did notice that when Dumbledore entered his mind, it didn’t drain him as much as when Snape did. He felt the rifling, ghostly fingers, but they didn’t feel as foreign for some reason.

When Dumbledore finally pulled back, the old man sat back on his heels with an exhausted sigh. Turning to Snape, he took the man’s arm between his hands and, heaving a huge breath, closed his eyes, seeming to concentrate, as he said, “Adsertum.”

Harry looked on anxiously, having no idea what the Headmaster was doing, but having a good enough grasp of Latin from his various courses to know that the word to the spell meant ‘to set free.’

“Sir?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but needing answers badly. “What is going on?”

“I am attempting to sever Professor Snape’s link to Voldemort through his Dark Mark.”

“Is it working?”

“No, it is not, which is very troubling indeed.”

“Why is that so troubling?” 

“Because,” Dumbledore said, turning deeply worried blue eyes on Harry. “If I were of equal or greater power to Voldemort, I would be able to at least transfer Professor Snape’s bond to me. As it is, all I can do is mute the connection.”

“You mean…Voldemort is more powerful than you now?” Harry asked, barely able to voice the question.

“I’m afraid so, my boy. Now, we need to make plans. Voldemort is calling his lieutenants together. He is moving against Hogwarts tonight.”

“What?!” Harry shouted. “How do you know?”

“Severus told you, dear boy. Oh, and we need to find a purely non-magical weapon for you to use against him, of course.”

~*~

Battle preparations were going strong throughout Hogwarts; Aurors had Floo’d directly from the Ministry and Order Headquarters upon receiving word that Harry Potter was ready to move against Voldemort. While the layout of the Castle was being analysed for defensive purposes, Harry found himself once again in deep conversation with Snape. Only this time, the older wizard was reclining on one of the infirmary’s cots, recovering from his earlier trip to Voldemort’s mind and subsequent torture.

“How are you feeling, sir?” 

“I’m fine, Potter," he said through gritted teeth, the pain in his arm bearable, but still nearly white hot. "Don’t waste your precious concern on me.”

“And Draco… You’re sure he’s okay?” Harry asked, not for the first time. 

“Yes, idiot boy. I brought him back with me. As soon as we passed from the Dark Lord’s mind, his consciousness returned to his body.” 

“Then why isn’t he waking up?”

“Because,” an aggrieved sigh split the air then, at having to explain this yet again, “being trapped in the Dark Lord’s consciousness drained him. He is in a healing sleep to help him restore his magical core. It is for the best. Now, can we speak of more urgent matters? I need to ensure you aren’t going to do something stupid, and ruin this chance at finally killing the Dark Lord once and for all.”

“Sir, first of all, there is _nothing_ more important to me than Draco. If there is even the remotest chance that he is still trapped in Voldemort’s mind, then I have no problem calling this whole thing off.”

“Potter, have I ever lied to you?”

Harry blinked as he thought about this. No, to the best of his knowledge, Snape had never once lied to him. He studied the older man, taking in the lines of exhaustion etched into the pale features. 

Snape had collapsed five hours before from the pain of being tortured through his Mark. It was now Sunday afternoon; Draco had been in his deep slumber for nearly fifteen hours, and Harry was becoming frantic that his lover would never wake up. 

Focusing on the present, he drew in a deep breath and admitted, “No, sir. Even when the truth has been painful… _especially_ when the truth has been painful, you’ve never kept it from me. I just…I don’t understand why he’s _not waking up_.”

Snape dragged a shaking hand to his face and covered his eyes with it, digging his fingers into his temples to ward off the migraine he felt approaching. “You’ve no idea what it was like, being in his mind. Draco was in there for over five hours before I was able to retrieve him. If… _when_ he awakens…he may very well not be the same person he was before he went in. Be prepared for that, Potter.”

Harry looked over at the bed where Draco slept on, swallowing past a lump of fear that kept lodging in his throat. Draco _would_ wake up, he had to believe that. Because if he didn’t, there was nothing to fight for. 

“So, the weapon…do you have any ideas?” Harry asked, nearly desperate now to change the subject he himself had been so eager to bring up.

Snape shot him a glare before snorting softly. “It figures you would need help in even this. What part of non magical item confuses you, Potter?”

“It just doesn’t make sense, sir. According to what you’re telling me, I could hit him with a car and he would die, but if I cast Avada Kedavra on him, he would simply absorb the power of the spell and suffer a little pain for it. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sensical or not, the only way to destroy him is to kill him with an item that is devoid of all magical essence. It will need to be something that is from the Muggle world, as even non magical items tend to absorb magic over a period of time. We don’t want to take any chances.”

Harry nodded. “Hermione went with Professor McGonagall to London to get an appropriate weapon.”

Snape narrowed his eyes and sneered, hearing that. “You should have gone, Potter. You will be the one to use the item, after all. You should not have left it to another to select the item with which you intend to kill your enemy.”

Harry shrugged. “I really don’t care what they pick out. I’m not leaving Draco. Not until I know for sure that he’s going to be all right.”

“Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey broke in to their quiet conversation. “I would appreciate it if you let my patient rest now. Mr. Malfoy is not the only wizard whose magical core is in need of replenishing. Now, Professor, I have some potions here I need you to drink, and drink them you will.” 

Harry felt a sparkle of amusement at the look on Snape’s face when he took his own pain and replenishing potions. The mediwitch raised a fuss when he refused the sleeping potion, causing Snape to growl out, “Woman, there are important events transpiring now. I refuse to let Potter bungle this mission. If I fall asleep now, I’m certain that is exactly what will happen.”

Harry snorted at that, nearly missing the weak voice calling his name from across the aisle. As soon as it registered on him, however, he spun and took two running strides to Draco’s bedside. “Draco?! Are you awake? Talk to me, love. Please tell me you’re okay!”

Draco’s lashes fluttered against his ashen cheeks. To everyone else, the boy looked like he had travelled to hell and back—actually quite an apt description—to Harry, he’d never seen anything more beautiful. It was the first sign of wakefulness he’d exhibited. 

“Harry,” Draco’s voice was a rough whisper. “I’m cold, Harry.”

Harry crawled onto Draco’s cot, using his body to help warm his lover. “Shh, Draco, I’m here, love. I’ll warm you up.”

“Obviously you’re here,” Draco’s sneer was only a shadow of its normal glory, but seeing it sent hope flooding through Harry. “You’re squashing me, you git. Get off and get me a blanket. Or ten. It’s bloody freezing in here.”

Harry laughed, a combination of relief and exhilaration making him giddy. Declining to relinquish his position on his lover for the moment, he dropped his head and captured Draco’s lips with his own in a soul shattering kiss. The kiss went on for several moments before a screech from Madam Pomfrey pulled them apart. 

Breaking free of the kiss, Harry raised up to look deep into Draco’s eyes. “I love you, Draco. I thought I was going to die when Voldemort took you.” 

Draco shuddered, fear lining his features for a moment before he quickly masked it. “Harry, I heard something while I was…there. The Dark Lord is vulnerable—“ 

“Shh, Draco, we know, love. Professor Snape woke up earlier and told us.”

Draco nodded and shivered, still cold. His experiences while in Voldemort’s mind would haunt him for the rest of his life. “I…Harry, I love you, too. I had to tell you. I just…I would never have survived in there if it weren’t for you. I thought I was going to lose myself, and all I could think about toward the end was coming back to you.”

“Oh, bloody brilliant. I survive one form of torture only to have to sit through this mushy, romantic drivel,” Snape said, causing Harry to sit up and glare at him over his shoulder. “Too much is transpiring now for the two of you to be tossing verbal flowers at each other. We have plans to make.”

“’We’?” Pomfrey asked, sending a stern look Snape’s direction. “I wasn’t aware Harry had a mouse in his pocket, Professor. And, as he’s the only one of you three in any condition to go anywhere, he’s the only one who will be making plans. Do I make myself clear?”

Snape growled at the medi-witch, but threw himself back on the cot, grumbling about bloody interfering witches.

The doors to the infirmary slammed open and McGonagall came running in, a parcel clutched in her hands as she said, nearly frantic, “Voldemort is here. He and over a hundred Death Eaters are on the grounds!”

Harry jumped to his feet, only one emotion driving him: the need to kill Voldemort for all he had done to him, to Draco, and to everyone Harry loved. Turning and placing a kiss on Draco’s lips, he murmured, “Stay here, you’ll be safe. I love you, Draco. I’ll be back for you.”

“Harry—“

“Please, Draco. I have to know that you’re safe. If I have to worry about you, I’ll end up getting myself killed.”

Draco swallowed hard and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to argue. Giving a short nod, he listened to Harry’s footsteps walk away from him. Opening his eyes to catch one last glance of his lover, his soul mate, he saw movement from across the room. 

Severus pushed himself from the bed and grabbed his robes off a nearby chair. Shrugging into the robes, he checked his pocket for his wand and turned to follow Potter from the room. Suddenly, Draco was standing, swaying minutely, beside him. 

“I’m coming with you, sir. Harry might need me and I’m just a sitting duck up here. Voldemort knows about our bond and he will do anything in his power to use that to manipulate Harry. If I am where Harry can see that I’m okay, he will be able to focus on killing Voldemort and this whole bloody mess will be over.”

Snape looked down at Draco and nodded shortly. He didn’t have the time or patience to argue with the boy.

~*~

As Harry and McGonagall hurried down the halls, listening for the sounds of battle, she filled him in. 

“The last of the younger children have been safely relocated. We knew he was planning to come here, but we thought we had more time to prepare, so most of the upper years are still here.”

“The DA?” Harry asked.

“Still here. Actually, they refused to leave, regardless. But there are also upper years whose allegiance we are not so certain about. You’ll need to watch your back.”

Harry nodded and increased the pace. He could feel Voldemort now. Could sense his malevolent presence. 

“Please tell me you found a suitable weapon,” he said, looking to the package in her hand. 

“Yes. Miss Granger and I both thought these items would be the best choices, considering your rather limited knowledge of weaponry.”

Coming to a halt just beyond the range of the entryway to the school, Harry turned to his Head of House and held out his hands. Panting slightly, the witch tugged the strings off the parcel, revealing a small assortment of very Muggle looking weapons. 

There was a gun, which Harry instinctively passed over with a shake of his head. Seeing the questioning gaze McGonagall levelled at him, he explained, “I don’t know the first thing about firearms. I’d be just as likely to shoot an Order member, as shoot Voldemort with that.”

Lying beside the gun was a rather ornately carved, vicious looking dagger, which Harry lifted, placing it in its sheath before sliding the whole thing in the pocket of his robes. There were also a few short swords, but Harry shook his head at those as well. “If I have to get that close to him, the dagger will work just as well.”

With a grin, he lifted the final item off the packaging paper: a common Muggle bow and quiver of arrows.

“The tips of the arrows are lead,” McGonagall explained. “Lead is a nearly magical null. You can use it from a distance, but you should still be careful. Much like the pistol, you could seriously hurt someone with this.”

Harry nodded and slipped the bow over one shoulder and the quiver over the other, drawing his wand and whispering a quick, “Good luck, Professor,” before rounding the corner and running down the steps to join the Order Members and DA who were standing five and six people deep at the doors to the castle.

Striding confidently toward the front, pushing through the gathering throng, he turned to address them all. Suddenly the fear left him and a sense of calm took its place. He had been born for this moment. It would all end here and now.

Looking into the expectant faces surrounding him, he spoke with quiet authority, “Voldemort dies today.”

~*~

Draco and Snape Flooed to the Potions classroom first, allowing Snape to change into battle robes, while Draco collected a large number of healing and pain potions that Snape had been carefully stockpiling for a day like today. Shrinking the vials, Draco placed them in the pockets of his robes. 

The entire time he worked, Draco could hear the sounds of battle echoing down from above. Miraculously, the sound reassured him. He knew instinctively that if anything happened to Harry, the battle would come to a quick end. He turned, ready, when Snape re-entered the room.

“Draco, we need to leave this room separately. I don’t want to be forced to use you against Potter.”

Draco looked at his Professor, a frown wrinkling his brow as questions popped into his head. “You would use me against Harry?”

Snape sighed tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am still a Death Eater, Draco. The only thing that will sever that connection for good is the Dark Lord’s death. I cannot disobey a direct order from him.”

Draco swallowed thickly and nodded his understanding. Not only would he stay far away from his Head of House, but he would keep a sharp eye on him as well. He didn’t want to have to kill the man, but he would do anything to protect Harry.

He watched Snape leave the room and waited a few moments, gathering himself, willing strength into his exhausted mind and body before travelling the corridors to where the noise of battle was originating.

The closer he got to the fighting, the steadier he became. He was a Slytherin, and like any good student of that house, he had weighed and measured this battle long before this day had come. Lying low was no longer an option; Voldemort knew of his relationship with Harry. The only viable decision to be made was to stand and fight…and take as many people from the other “side” out as possible. 

This would be the hardest day of his life, he knew. There was the very real, very distinct possibility that he would end up clashing wands with his own father. 

Finally reaching the end of the corridor, beyond which he could already see a kaleidoscope of wand sparks, he drew a deep breath, pulled out his wand, and raised his shields. He would not go down without showing the strength of the House of Slytherin, and the power of a Malfoy.

~*~

Three hours later, the battle was still going strong. Voldemort had erected shields around himself that none could break through, but at the same time kept him from casting against anyone either, so while the ground was littered with bodies, none were at his hand. 

Draco spun around, narrowly avoiding a bolt of blue light that originated from behind a partially blasted statue of Gefnik the Great. 

“Draco, darling, come to auntie Bella,” he heard, causing him to shudder at the sugary sweet tone.

His dear aunt then set about trying to kill him, laughing manically as she hurled curse after curse at him, calling him a blood traitor and a Mudblood lover. He simply sneered right back and threw up his strongest Shielding Charm, only lowering it when he saw Fenrir Greyback try to attack Harry from the rear. 

Not thinking, he dropped his shields and cast Petrificus Totalus on the werewolf. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his body engulfed in pain as the slashing hex found its mark.

~*~

Harry had no idea that his soul mate was involved in the fight until he heard Snape’s voice shout Draco’s name. He’d been fighting on endlessly, using every scrap of knowledge he’d gleaned over his years and every bit of power in his body, and he had yet to face Voldemort directly.

The Death Eaters were protecting their Lord well. As well as the Order members were protecting _him_ , actually. He had been fighting side by side with Hermione and Ron for the first hour and had extracted their individual promises, between the rounds of hexes and curses, to kill Voldemort for him if he should fall. He had no faith in the power of the prophecy. If Voldemort didn’t die by Harry’s hand, he would die by someone’s. 

The trio had been separated, however, when Ron had seen Bill surrounded by four Death Eaters. He’d rushed through a throng of bodies, knocking people down left and right, to reach his brother’s side. After watching to be sure he made it safely and had the situation well in hand, Harry had lost sight of him, and had been drawn back into his own battle with Antonin Dolohov.

When Harry heard Snape’s shout, his blood turned to ice. Neither Snape nor Draco should have been out of the Infirmary. _They should be safe, dammit!_

Harry watched as Snape fought his way to the middle of the wall, next to a decimated statue. Taking advantage of his inattention, a still-masked Death Eater threw a hex at Harry. Hermione, still fighting by his side, saw the hex and knocked him out of the way just in time.

“Harry!” she shouted, wide brown eyes flicking to him to ascertain his condition. “Pull yourself together! I am not killing Voldemort for you, you git!”

Harry shook himself out of his panic for Draco and focussed again on the battle. He would have to trust Snape to ensure that Draco was looked after. But the fear for Draco, once awakened, was the impetus he needed to finish this thing. 

“Hermione,” he said, as a sudden thought, so simple and yet so effective, hit him. “Any spell can be ended by Finite Incantatem, right?”

Hermione didn’t bother looking at him, just nodded as she ducked an Avada. He watched her tremble a bit after the jet of green light hit the castle wall and caused a brief, visible ripple in the castle’s wards. Harry had lost track of the number of times that particular spell had been lobbed at them, and so far their sheer dumb luck had held out. 

Shaking his head clear of unnecessary thoughts, he leapt across the balcony where they were fighting and looked down, spotting Voldemort almost immediately. As Hermione doubled her efforts to keep all attention focussed on her, he leaned over the railing and cast Finite Incantatem on Voldemort, nearly laughing in triumph when the shimmering air around him dissipated. 

Voldemort’s shields were down, now was the time for the real battle to begin.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled the bow off his shoulder, where it had been resting all during the fighting. Taking an arrow from the quiver, he fitted its notch into the thin, taught cord of the bow, shaking just a tiny bit as he lined up his hands, pulled the shaft of the arrow against the wood grain of the bow, and turned to aim at Voldemort…who was looking right at him. 

Harry pulled back on the bow, training the arrow on Voldemort’s heart. Letting out all his breath, he released the tense bow strings…

...and watched in dismay as the arrow flew a pitiful ten feet before flopping to the ground below with a series of dull clacks. Shite! He had never used a bow and arrow set before, but it hadn’t seemed too complicated. What in the name of Merlin were they going to do now?

Voldemort moved to the base of the stairs, nearly overcome with laughter at Harry’s expense. That laughter, that sound that seemed to accompany the deaths of everyone this creature had ever killed, caused a swell of fury like nothing Harry had ever experienced before. He threw the useless bow to the ground and reached for the dagger in his pocket. No more. This would end here and now.

The cold steel tip of the dagger was pointed straight at Voldemort; it seemed to be encouraging Harry to bury it deep within Voldemort’s dead, icy heart. With a strangled yell, Harry ran down the steps, launching himself at Voldemort from a handful of steps up. Gravity and momentum did the rest. 

Harry watched with a kind of sick pleasure as a stunned look crossed his enemy’s face when the tip of the dagger pierced his papery thin flesh. Harry bore down on the handle with all his might, pushing harder and deeper, twisting it viciously from side to side, searching for Voldemort’s heart. He would not realise until much later that not only did he shred Voldemort’s heart, but his lungs as well. 

Harry had wondered before how he would know when Voldemort was truly dead. That question was answered in as frightening a fashion as it could possibly have been. A wave of intense power flashed out from Voldemort, knocking everyone within a fifty foot radius off their feet, then the power seemed to double back in upon itself, aiming directly for Harry.

He felt it hit him and consume him, nearly choking him. He simply knew he would explode with the force of the power battering him. He felt the energy draining steadily from his body…


	12. Aftermath: Secrets Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Totally borrowed from Chronicles of Riddick. (from the movie: “You keep what you kill. It is the Necromonger way.”) I may not give it back. :D The rest of the description of the bond between Lords and Vassals (or nobles) is straight from history. The idea of the Dark Mark being a Feudal bond came to me sometime around chapter three of this fic. Some of it has been slightly changed to reflect the magical coercion in the bond between Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but otherwise it is the same.

Harry stumbled back from the lifeless body of Voldemort; whatever it was that had just hit him left him too tired to do anything other than remain on his feet. And then, even that ability left him as he collapsed in a heap, the wall behind him the only thing holding him in a sitting position. He watched through blurred eyes as the fighting in the hall came to a sudden stop. 

‘Oh, great,’ he thought, ‘they’re all going to take aim at _me_ now.’ He slowly turned his head to the side, eyes searching for Draco’s white blond head. Seeing the beautiful colour out of the corner of his vision, he rolled his head back around. Unfortunately, he was left staring, not at Draco, but at the only person besides Voldemort who had ever truly scared him: Lucius Malfoy. 

He watched wearily as the man locked gazes with him, the silver of his eyes nothing but pure ice. In a detached sort of manner, he found himself marvelling at how the same colour in the man’s son reflected pure warmth and beauty. Footsteps broke through his daze and he focused enough to understand that several people had come to surround him, to offer him their support while he pulled himself together. They weren’t going to let the remaining Death Eaters hurt him while he was weak and unable to defend himself.

Someone was kneeling next to him and he flinched away from an arm bearing the Dark Mark, stopping only when a familiar voice growled harshly, “Potter, if I was going to hurt you, I would have done so a hundred times over by now.”

“S’rry, sir,” he whispered, amazed he could even get that much out, as tired as he was. “Dint know…” He gave his mind and body over to the darkness, hoping Snape would understand what he had been trying to say.

~*~

Harry opened his eyes, feeling disoriented and very strange. It felt like his blood was pulsing inside of him, rushing manically through his veins. Ignoring the sensation, he gingerly sat up and looked around him, taking in the ordered chaos surrounding him.

He was once again in the infirmary, recovering from the stress of killing Voldemort. With a hitching breath, he allowed himself to remember everything: the sounds of battle, the screams and pleas of the dying; the smell of the blood and gore that surrounded him; the sight of the wild, colourful flashes erupting from wand tips. But most of all, he remembered the way the dagger felt slipping so easily through Voldemort’s skin, the give of his flesh as Harry twisted the blade ever deeper, searching for the heart he would have sworn Voldemort didn’t have. 

His gut twisting at the memory, Harry lifted his shaking hands to stare at them. They were surprisingly clean, not a drop of blood to be seen, considering they were the hands of a killer. No matter how evil Voldemort had been, Harry had used these hands to take his life. He was a murderer.

“Potter,” he heard, and twisted his head to see Snape seated next to his bed, exhaustion causing the older man to slump for the first time in Harry’s memory. “Stop doing that,” he said gruffly.

“Doing what, sir?” Harry asked, surprised at how hoarse his voice was. 

“Stop blaming yourself. If you had not killed Voldemort, he would have destroyed us all. Loathe as I am to admit it, your actions saved us.”

Harry closed his eyes and relaxed back, feeling the burden of taking another’s life with his bare hands ease. Then he shot forward, eyes wide with panic. “Draco!”

“Is fine. He is sleeping now.” Snape gestured to the bed on the other side of where he was seated. He had positioned himself between Harry and Draco, to be there for whichever of them woke first. “The mediwizard in charge was finally able to get him to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion. He was drained from his adventures in Voldemort’s mind; going to battle before he was fully recovered was a severe setback for his physical and magical health. Add to that the amount of blood he lost, and it’s amazing he woke up as soon as he did. Of course, when he woke up he had to be restrained, as he kept trying to get to you. He was afraid we were all lying to him, and that you were dying. A few days of rest and recuperation, however, should have him back to his normal self. Which will hopefully mean he’ll remember he’s a Slytherin and not a Hufflepuff,” Snape said with the ghost of a smile.

Harry started to smile back, caught himself, and blinked worriedly at his Professor. The man _never_ smiled. He was obviously far more ill than Harry had realised. “Sir, I think you might need to have Madam Pomfrey look you over,” Harry said hesitantly.

A pinched expression appeared on Snape’s face before he closed his eyes, exhaled, and said, “The mediwizard in charge has already performed his tests on me. They’ve given me several potions to take, but I will take them from my own stores so that the infirmary’s stores are available for someone else.”

Harry felt a cool touch of dread as he listened to Snape. This was not the first time he had alluded to someone other than Madam Pomfrey being in charge; Harry had simply assumed it was a mediwizard from St. Mungo’s the first time, but he knew Pomfrey would not allow anyone else to treat the faculty if she was capable of doing so herself. 

Sucking in a deep breath to steady himself, he looked at Snape and said, “She’s dead, isn’t she? Madam Pomfrey, I mean. What happened?”

“The infirmary was attacked by a Death Eater shortly before Voldemort fell. Everyone inside died.”

Harry looked at the bed sheet pooled at his waist and quietly asked, “There were so many who died, too many. I saw so many bodies… Has a list of the dead been made? Tell me who else was killed.”

Snape looked at him a trifle oddly before rattling off a rather long list of names, too many of them students, including Hannah Abbot, Dean Thomas, Ginny Weasley, Parvati Patil, Zachary Taylor, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Blaise Zabini. The list was given in a rather clipped voice, and Harry realised that Snape was as deeply affected by the deaths of these students as Harry was. 

When he heard Ginny’s name, Harry closed his eyes and felt a wave of grief nearly overwhelm him. Regardless of her actions this year, she had always felt like a sister to him, _was_ Ron’s sister, and her death struck a hard blow. What nearly finished him was the final name on the list of the dead, a name that caused Snape’s voice to crack slightly as he said, “And Remus Lupin. I watched him fall, and I couldn’t stop it.”

Harry brought his hands to his eyes, digging the heels into them, trying to fight off the grief, to reserve it for a time he could truly give into it. With a shuddering breath, he opened his eyes, hoping they did not give away the devastation he felt at losing the last remaining link to his parents. 

Hearing Snape make a small noise, he looked at him and nearly fell out of his bed as he beheld two tears making tracks down the man’s weary face. Snape was staring off at nothing, eyes haunted, as he whispered, “The last of the Marauders.”

Swallowing past his own grief, Harry asked quietly, “Sir? Are you all right?”

“No, Potter, I don’t believe I am. But at least I have the opportunity now to _become_ all right. And that is all that matters.” 

Harry just looked at him, counting in the lines of the man’s face the many sacrifices he had made to ensure that this day would come. 

“Thank you, sir. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. I don’t think I’ve told you that before now, and I’m ashamed of myself for overlooking it. If there is ever anything I can do for you, say the word and I will do it,” Harry said, conviction ringing in his tone.

Snape lifted a brow at him and looked at his arm, seeming to consider for a moment before he shook his head and grinned wryly at Harry. “I never have to spy again. That is more than I ever truly thought I would live to see.”

Harry nodded his head, understanding the nearly overwhelming feeling of having survived. “I know what you mean, sir. I thought, even if I were able to kill Voldemort, that I would not survive his death.” Harry touched his scar, remembering the many times he had suffered pain at Voldemort’s emotions. Thinking of the nights he had kept his dorm mates up with his screams, before he had mastered Occlumency, had him sitting up again, smacking himself. “Oh hell! Ron, is he okay? Hermione was with me, but I lost track of Ron…”

“They are both fine, Potter. Mr. Weasley’s brother, Bill, was injured trying to save Seamus Finnegan from Fenrir Greyback. Finnegan and Weasley have been isolated from the rest of the injured until it can be determined whether or not they have contracted lycanthropy. The entire Weasley clan is in with Bill now, though Mr. Weasley asked to be notified when you woke.”

“Ron’s dad wanted to be told when I woke, or Ron? There’s too many Mr. Weasley’s to call any of them that.”

Snape inclined his head at that statement and said, “ _Ron_ and Miss Granger wished to speak with you when you woke.”

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned. The man was stubborn as a mule. “We have names, Professor. You _are_ allowed to use them.”

Snape shrugged, unconcerned. “It is not in my nature to call my students by their first names. Though, I will admit to difficulty with the multitude of Weasleys I’ve had pass through my classes in recent years.” He sat back in his chair and sighed, more tired than he could ever recall being. 

Harry took a moment to analyse Snape. The man was relatively young still, but had been through so much during the last twenty years that he looked soul weary. “Sir, perhaps you should go take your potions and rest.”

“If that’s not an order, I would actually prefer to stay here until you decide on the judgements, Potter.”

Harry shook his head in confusion. It was as if they’d stepped out of one conversation and landed in the middle of a completely different one with no warning whatsoever. “Umm, what?”

Snape looked at him, brows furrowed slightly, as he quietly stated, “If you are ordering me to go rest, then of course I will, but if it is merely a suggestion, then I would rather know what your judgements will be, or, barring that, _when_ they will be.”

Harry was really lost now. “Uh, sorry sir, but I’m not following. First, when did _you_ start taking orders from _me_? Second, what judgements? What are you talking about?”

Snape went from slouching to stiff as a board, eyes flaring in shock. “You don’t know?! Merlin, how could someone have not told you before now? You should have been prepared!”

Harry felt dread sweep through him even as he sarcastically stated, “Oh, yeah, because everyone usually tells me what I need to know before everything goes to hell.”

Snape shook his head in disbelief and opened his mouth, then closed it, obviously at a loss for how to begin. 

“Just tell me what I need to know, sir,” Harry prodded, feeling that something was slightly off with this scenario. Then it hit him: it was usually Dumbledore revealing everything to him too late to make a difference.

Snape blinked and focused on him, took a deep breath and said, “What do you know about the Dark Mark, Potter?”

Harry sat and thought about this for a moment. “Well, I know Voldemort marked all his followers. He used the Mark to call you to him for meetings and such, but other than that, I really don’t know anything.”

Snape nodded and closed his eyes, obviously ordering his mind for the task of illuminating Harry. “Voldemort’s followers, the Death Eaters, were bonded to him in a Feudal manner, with a formal servant bonding ceremony, which included Marking. The Mark is a visual representation of the servant’s bond to his Lord. Once the Marking ceremony was complete, a Death Eater owed total allegiance to Voldemort. They could not attack him, lie to him, or disobey an order from him without severe repercussions through the bond. You witnessed one such instance of a punishment for violating the bond.”

Harry nodded, remembering the scene here in the infirmary, when Voldemort had been torturing Snape through his Mark. “So that happened because of your bond with Voldemort. I thought he found out about bringing Draco back,” he said.

Snape grimaced a bit before saying, “Actually, Voldemort _was_ the one who instigated the torture. In that instance, I was not lying directly to him, disobeying a direct order, or trying to attack him, so the bond would not have been activated on its own.”

Harry’s brow furrowed as a thought occurred to him. “But sir, if you couldn’t lie to him or disobey him, how were you able to spy for the Order?”

“By splitting hairs, Potter. Splitting them very finely. As long as Voldemort did not order me to silence on any given subject, I could speak of it to the Order. And Voldemort was foolishly convinced of his followers’ loyalty. There were a few times when Bellatrix almost blew my cover, but we had plans in place for such eventualities.”

Harry nodded, having been aware of a few times Order “secrets” had been revealed to protect Snape’s standing in the inner circle of Death Eaters. 

Harry’s attention was shattered when a warm body launched itself on him. Kisses rained down on his face as Draco’s voice hoarsely whispered words of fear and love. Harry pulled him down, wrapping himself around Draco and simply revelling in the feeling of having him back in his arms. 

“Gods, Harry, I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up,” Draco whispered into his ear, body shaking slightly in his overwhelming relief at having woken to see Harry sitting up, talking to Snape.

Harry laughed, not quite steady himself, as he peered over Draco’s shoulder at Snape. “Sorry, sir, but it looks like Draco will need to be resorted. Don’t worry, love,” he reassured Draco with a smile, “I’m sure you’ll look wonderful in yellow.”

Snape barked out a short laugh, the love and joy pouring from his two students a wonderful sight to behold. “I’ll let you boys have a few moments of privacy while I go collect my potions and inform Mr…Ron and Hermione that you are awake. I will be back momentarily, Potter, and would appreciate it if the both of you would remember to keep your clothing on,” he requested dryly, shaking his head as he realised neither of the boys was paying him the least bit of attention. He quietly cast concealing charms around them, allowing them a moment to reacquaint themselves with each other, out of the view of prying eyes.

Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck, inhaling the scent of him, swiping his tongue over the erratic pulse beating there, allowing his senses to frolic, reassuring himself that Draco was here, with him, and that they were both fine. Harry pushed Draco off him slightly, rolling to the side so he could see him better. 

There were faint red lines running down Draco’s face, and Harry followed them with his fingers, opening Draco’s sleep shirt to see how far the injury went. As he trailed his fingers down Draco’s side, a small sound drew his gaze back up. Draco’s eyes were nearly liquid silver and his lips were parted, soft puffs of breath escaping him. 

With a groan, Harry leaned forward and captured those lips with his own, eyes sliding closed as his tongue mated with Draco’s. He slid his arms around Draco, under his open shirt, allowing his hands to caress the lithe muscles that ran the length of his spine. Slipping his fingers under the drawstring waist of Draco’s sleep pants, Harry lightly traced the upper curves of his buttocks, drawing a moan from his lover.

Realising this was getting out of hand, and that they didn’t have long before they would be interrupted, Harry reluctantly broke their kiss, pulling Draco’s body flush against his own. “I love you, Draco,” he whispered against Draco’s ear, lips caressing the sensitive shell, causing Draco to shudder and rub against Harry desperately.

“Shh, love,” Harry said, gritting his teeth against the exquisite sensations Draco was dragging from him. “We can’t. Not right now. But I promise you, as soon as we’re out of here, we’re spending a solid week in bed. Killing Voldemort should afford me that, don’t you think?”

Draco opened his eyes and looked into Harry’s, willing his body to calm down. “How do you feel?” he asked, using the question as a way to distract himself from the fact that Harry’s body was touching him from his feet to his forehead.

“I’m fine. I actually feel like I have the energy of five two year olds right now. They must have given me some powerful potions to counteract whatever that was that hit me at the end.”

“’Whatever that was’? You mean, you don’t know what happened?” Draco asked, astonished. 

“Err, no…I think Snape was trying to explain it to me when you…umm…interrupted,” Harry said, rolling his eyes with a grin.

“I heard them talking about it, right before they gave me the Dreamless Sleep Potion. When you killed Voldemort, you were touching him. His power, his energy, it shot out of his body and into _you_. A lot of people got hit with the backlash, some of them were knocked out from it. You have all his power inside you now, as well as all the power you had before. No one can touch you now, Harry.”

“Great,” Harry muttered, hiding his face in Draco’s chest. “Just what I always wanted, Voldemort’s power. Why couldn’t the man just die?!”

“He did die, Harry, you saw to that. Once again, you’re the hero of the wizarding world,” Draco said with a soft laugh, knowing how much Harry would hate this. 

“I might have killed him, but his Death Eaters killed too many before I could. I don’t know how I can ever forgive myself for taking so long…”

Draco held him tighter, thinking of the students he would never see again. Hannah Abbot had been so friendly and unassuming, never an unkind word for anyone, even himself. He remembered her shy smile and quiet manner and felt the first tear fall. He went through the list, remembering their many virtues and times he’d spent either with them or being hexed by them, the Gryffindors especially. 

He choked on a laugh as he remembered the bat bogey hex Ginny had hit him with on the train. She had been a fine witch, and now she was dead. Draco still had not been told of her role in the events leading up to this night.

The hardest death for him to accept was that of Blaise, his long time friend and dorm mate. He put that thought out of his mind, unwilling to dwell on it at this moment. He had shed enough tears today, and didn’t want to lose his composure completely, especially now, when Harry needed him. 

“Gentlemen,” they heard, and turned their heads to see Dumbledore, the old man leaning heavily on a cane. 

“Headmaster,” Draco acknowledged, nodding his head in greeting but not releasing his hold on Harry. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, sitting up and surreptitiously wiping a few tears from his cheeks. “You’re okay, then?” he asked.

“I’m as fine as frog hair, Harry,” Dumbledore said, his twinkle dimmed by recent events, but there nonetheless. “It seems, however, that I have once again been remiss in my duties. I have not fully prepared you for the aftermath of this particular battle, perhaps because I was hoping to find a way in which you would be spared the responsibility of defeating a wizard three times your age. Ah well, no matter. What’s done is done, and now all that is left is to answer your questions.”

Draco looked at Dumbledore, wondering if the man knew how flippant he sounded. “’Ah well, no matter’?” he asked, voice a touch sharp. “’What’s done is done?!’” He would have said much more, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm and a soft, “shhh.”

“This is the way it always is, Draco,” Harry said. “If I survive, I get the information.”

Draco looked at Harry like he’d lost his mind. Harry just smiled and kissed him softly before turning to Dumbledore and asking, “Why is Professor Snape obeying orders from me? Or, more to the point, why does he feel he has to?”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up at this question and he answered before Dumbledore could, “You keep what you kill, Harry. It’s the Death Eater way.”*

Harry blinked and turned to Draco. “What?”

Draco shrugged helplessly. “I thought you knew. When you killed Voldemort, you assumed the bond of Lord to the Death Eaters. Didn’t you notice? As soon as you killed him, everyone stopped fighting. They could not fight against you directly. Everyone who has a Dark Mark is…yours.”

“Mine? Mine how?”

Draco looked at Dumbledore, shocked that the old wizard would not have prepared Harry for this. Dumbledore obviously took that look as a plea for help, because it was he who answered Harry.

“You are their rightful Lord, Harry. It is very similar to the bond between a Vassal and a Lord from the old Feudal system. They owe allegiance to you now. They cannot lie to you, or—“

“Disobey a direct order, or attack me,” Harry finished, his voice showing only a hint of the panic he was feeling.

“Exactly,” Dumbledore said quietly. He watched Harry process this information for a few moments before continuing. “There are certain rights you have as their Lord in a Feudalistic bond. Your Vassals, whatever title you choose to give them, have to attend you when you call for them, provided that they are physically capable. They are bound to help you mete out justice, pay fees and taxes to you as their lord, provide for your lodging when you and any entourage you might have visit. And most import, to provide military service and servants when they are called to do so.”

Harry’s eyes were wide, head shaking in silent refusal of what he was hearing. He didn’t _want_ the Death Eaters! Hell, he didn’t want Dobby, or house-elves in general, why would he want over a hundred murderous, prejudiced, dark wizards at his beck and call?

“I have taken action to ensure the bond is recognised as a formal bond in the eyes of the law, therefore, any punishment you mete out will be upheld by the full might of the Ministry. If you choose to send every Death Eater through the Veil, then you may do so, without fear of reprisal. However, if you choose not to cast judgement, the wizarding courts may sue you directly for remuneration. Or, you can have the Death Eaters bound over to a convening authority for trial, in this case, the Wizengamot.”

“Punishment?” Harry asked, his voice tight with anger. In his preoccupation with the conversation, he missed the lights flickering and the sounds of objects rattling throughout the room. “I killed Voldemort, and _this_ is my reward?! I get to spend the rest of my life babysitting the Death Eaters?” 

“As much time as I spent babysitting you the past seven years, I think you owe me, Potter,” Snape said, returning in time to hear the last bit of the conversation between Dumbledore and the two young men on the bed. “And you need to rein in your temper before you rattle this room off its foundation.”

Harry drew a deep breath and looked around him, seeing the beds vibrating up and down the room from the force of his anger. Closing his eyes, he nodded at Snape and concentrated on his breathing until all was calm once more.

“Harry, child, I’m sorry to have to put even more responsibility on your young shoulders,” Dumbledore said, pitching his voice low to calm and soothe Harry. “But you will have to cast judgement on the Death Eaters…and soon.”


	13. A New Day

Harry stalked through the castle, his anger driving him to keep moving. If he stopped, he would have to think, and right now thinking would be _bad_. He was so furious with the way events kept conspiring against him, the way his life seemed to grow more and more complicated the harder he worked to _un_ complicate it. 

He turned down a darkened hallway and came to a dead end. With a shout, he punched the wall in front of him, wincing at the pain that radiated up from his fist. Putting the top of his head against the cool brick, he rolled it back and forth, fighting down his anger. He’d already set several of the sconces throughout the castle aflame with the force of his ire; having at least double the amount of power at his disposal was wreaking havoc with his control. And the power wanted out, wanted to be used.

He sucked in a sharp breath and focussed on his breathing, clearing his mind as he’d been taught when learning to Occlude. He needed a clear head for everything he must still do; running off and giving into his fit of temper, satisfying though it was, wouldn’t solve a thing.

He gave a short, humourless laugh as he remembered the look on Dumbledore’s face when he had ordered the man away from him. _”I need you to go somewhere else, sir. Right now. If you stay here, I can’t guarantee that I won’t say something we both regret.”_ Dumbledore had blinked, obviously surprised that Harry had finally grown weary of his manipulation. 

“Harry?” he heard behind him, and twisted to see Draco, standing at the entrance to the short hallway where he had sought refuge. The hint of uncertainty on his face had Harry cursing under his breath and striding forward quickly to wrap Draco in his arms. 

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to leave like that, I just…it was too much, you know?” he asked, face buried in Draco’s neck, relieved when he felt arms come up to circle him, one hand carding through his hair in a calming motion.

“If I had known you didn’t know, I would have told you, Harry,” Draco murmured, arms tightening for a moment in a gentle hug. “I would never have let you find out like that.”

Harry nodded, lips rubbing back and forth over the pulse point at the base of Draco’s throat, his anger dimming as he relaxed into Draco’s embrace. “What am I going to do, Draco?” he asked, a hint of panic seeping through him once more. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know,” Draco whispered. “But no matter what happens, what you decide, I’ll be here. No more running, no more hiding.”

Harry opened his eyes and started, seeing the two people standing so hesitantly at the end of the hallway. “Time to put that to the test, love,” he said, smiling softly as Draco followed his gaze and stiffened, uncomfortable. 

Ron and Hermione were standing there, both looking a bit anxious. Ron seemed to have aged ten years overnight. Harry pulled away from Draco and went to hug his friend, knowing that no matter how bad it was for Harry right now, for Ron, it was worse. “I’m so sorry, Ron,” he said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

He felt a shudder run through his friend’s body before he stiffened and pulled away, swallowing heavily and blinking rapidly. “M’fine,” Ron said hoarsely, then cleared his throat and nodded at Draco. “Malfoy.”

Hermione sighed and caught Harry’s gaze, rolling her eyes at the two young men standing so stiffly, looking at each other with years worth of hatred standing between them. Walking up to Draco, she smiled in her straightforward manner and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, and whispered something in his ear which had him emitting a shocked laugh. 

Harry saw Ron shift his weight impatiently for a moment, obviously uncomfortable with Hermione’s open acceptance of Draco. “I love him, Ron,” he said quietly, watching his best friend’s face for any sign that his anger would get out of control.

“I know, mate,” Ron said, a surprised look on his face. “And I’m really fine with it…now. But I’m still not very comfortable with Hermione holding on to him like that. You’d think she’d remember who her boyfriend is.”

Harry laughed, feeling the tension that had building within him during the last few days dissipate at his friend’s disgruntlement. “Hermione,” he said through chuckles, “quit groping my boyfriend, and come take care of yours. Unless you want _me_ to grope him.”

His teasing had quite a surprising effect; Hermione let go of Draco, of course, but Draco turned to him with a growl, handsome features darkening a bit as he said, “Mine. You’re mine, Harry, don’t forget that.”

Ron laughed uproariously at that blatantly possessive statement, leaning weakly against the wall as he filed this moment away to be used for teasing material in the future. “Jealous, Malfoy?” he asked, still sniggering helplessly.

Draco flushed a bit, but thrust his chin in the air, pride not allowing him to let the comment go unanswered. “I have it on good authority that Harry prefers blonds, so no, not really. I simply felt the need to remind him to whom he belongs.”

Hermione scowled at Draco, hands coming to her hips as she started castigating him for treating Harry like an object. “He’s not a possession, Draco, or a house-elf, or a _thing_ to _belong_ to you. He’s a living, breathing person, and you’d better remember that, because if you hurt him, I’ll…”

Harry smoothly stepped forward at that point, wrapping one arm around Hermione’s waist as he suggested, “You’ll what? Cross your arms at him and frown? Tap your toe? Or, Merlin forbid, _lecture_ him?? Run, Draco! I’ll distract her.”

The four teens were all laughing by that point, and it was then that Harry knew everything would be all right. It was finally a new day.

~*~

“So,” Hermione said a while later, after they’d all had a chance to talk about the events of the past few days. “We heard you have to decide what to do about the surviving Death Eaters.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, stiffening slightly until he felt Draco squeeze his thigh in silent support. Draco and Ron had settled into a tentative peace after Draco had expressed his condolences to Ron, who had nodded, jaw working against his renewed grief, unable to speak for a few moments as he fought for composure. 

“What are you going to do?” Ron asked, flicking a worried look at Draco. They all knew the implications of this. It would be up to Harry to decide the fate of Draco’s father, a chore Harry did _not_ want.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, plucking at a loose thread on his sleep pants. He and Draco were still in their pyjamas, each having left the infirmary in too much of a rush to don normal clothing. “I really don’t know.”

“I think you need to speak with Snape,” Draco suggested softly, drawing three sets of startled eyes. With a shrug, he explained, “He can tell you everything you need to know, about the Death Eaters as a whole, as well as individuals.”

Harry smiled and nodded, leaning forward to brush a grateful kiss across Draco’s lips. 

“Harry!” Ron moaned, aggrieved. “Do you have to do that in front of me?!”

“No,” Draco replied, an air of innocence surrounding him. “You’re welcome to leave so we can snog properly.”

Hermione snorted, but stood anyway, pulling on Ron’s arm. “We’ll leave you two alone, now. We need to get back to the infirmary anyway. The test results for Bill and Seamus will be coming in soon.”

All levity left the group at that quiet statement. Draco climbed to his feet, stepped up to Ron, and drew a deep breath, offering his hand. “If you, or your family, need anything, we…you…just let us know.”

Ron blinked and gingerly shook Draco’s hand, one corner of his mouth quirking upward as he said, “Yeah, thanks…mate.”

A loud sniffle from Hermione had the three boys looking at her askance. “Oh, never mind then!” she exclaimed, eyes teary. “Boys, I swear! Come along, Ron.”

Draco stood, watching them leave, a bemused look on his face. Suddenly a pair of arms twined around his waist, and Harry’s voice whispered in his ear, “Thank you. They’re the only family I have left. I…”

Draco turned around, sliding his arms behind Harry, as he said, “I know how important they are to you, Harry. Just as I know you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. I owe them more than friendship for keeping you safe for me all these years.”

Harry gave a dry chuckle, swallowing past emotion, even as he said, “Draco the Hufflepuff makes another appearance.”

Draco’s silver eyes narrowed dangerously, as he whispered, “Fancy sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life, Potter?” When Harry shook his head in the negative, shoulders quaking with silent mirth, he said, “Don’t ever utter such a foul insult again. Hufflepuff, indeed.”

Harry put one hand to the back of Draco’s head, pulling him down for a long, leisurely kiss, making them both forget, for the moment, all the decisions still to be made.

~*~

Severus Snape looked up as a knock sounded at the door to his office. He was attempting to set everything in order, not knowing what, exactly, the future held for him. “Come in,” he called, feeling another wave of soothing warmth run through his arm from his Mark. 

It still managed to surprise him every time that happened. For over twenty years, all he’d felt was either bitter cold or pain there. Since Harry had defeated Voldemort, he felt warm inside for the first time in longer than he could remember. He didn’t think, owing to his childhood, that he’d _ever_ really felt this peaceful. 

The door opened slowly, and Harry peeked around it, gaze sweeping the room before landing on Snape. “Hello, sir. Do you have a moment?”

Snape raised one eyebrow at the question. Harry obviously still did not fully grasp the absolute power he held over all the Death Eaters. More so even than Voldemort had, considering he was far and away more powerful than the Dark Lord had ever been.

“Of course, Potter, do come in. Shut the door behind you, please. The drafts down here are not conducive to the stability of some of my more volatile potions.”

He watched as Harry entered the room, then turned to him with an apologetic glance. “Draco is with me, is that all right?”

“Certainly,” he said, lips twitching as Draco sauntered in and flopped down into the chair positioned across from his office desk. “Make yourself comfortable, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco smirked at his dry tone and slouched even further, grey eyes glinting with mirth when Snape merely lifted one eyebrow sardonically, and shook his head, before returning his full attention to Harry. 

“Have you reached a decision, then?” Snape asked, his outwardly calm demeanour masking his inner turmoil. 

Harry shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea what to do, sir. I’ve thought about it, and I just…I don’t know how I can judge them. I mean, I’ve never seen most of them before today—“

“Potter, has no one told you yet that it has been two days since you defeated Voldemort?” Snape asked quietly, knowing that a shock to Harry could be detrimental for them all.

“Two days?” Harry asked weakly, before sinking into a chair that went from hard and uncomfortable to soft and squishy within seconds. “I was unconscious that long? Why?”

“You received quite a shock to your magical core,” Snape replied. “It took that long for your magic to balance out enough for your body to contain it.”

“I think you just stayed out that long because you knew how worried I was,” Draco said with a huff of indignation, happily noting a glint of humour springing into Harry’s eyes.

Harry nodded. “Of course, that’s exactly why. You’re so cute when you’re worried.” 

He laughed when Draco rolled his eyes, before continuing, voice once again serious, “So then, the other day was the first time I’ve seen most of them, and from what I’ve found out about the Mark, it’s very possible they had no choice in all this. Truly, how can they be blamed for anything that happened after they took the Mark? And some of them might have taken the Mark years ago, before Voldemort showed his true colours. What if some of them only joined him because they really felt that pure-bloods should be protected from the encroachment of Muggles on the wizarding world? Once they took the Mark…”

Snape nodded his head, understanding Harry’s plight. “It is a possibility that some of the Death Eaters were forced by circumstances beyond their control to commit the acts they did, in the name of the Dark Lord. However, be that as it may, they must still be punished. And, unfortunately, no one can decide their punishments except you, unless you cede control of them to another. The problem with doing that is that should you choose that route, you will also be required to dismantle the Vassal bond.”

Hope lit in Harry’s eyes at hearing that. “I can do that?” he asked. 

“You need to think very carefully before doing such a thing, Potter,” Snape cautioned. “I understand that it would seem the ideal solution, but what you don’t see is that there are several very powerful wizards among the Death Eaters. Nowhere near as powerful as yourself, but if you were to simply dissolve the bond, they would be free. Free to become the next Dark Lord.”

“But those wizards, the truly powerful ones, I mean, they’re all in the inner circle, right?” Harry asked, mind whirling. 

“That is correct. Voldemort was quite proud of his ability to make the proudest wizards obey his every command. Wizards like Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov. He kept the most powerful and influential near to him, where he could keep a close eye on them. The only reason I wasn’t as closely watched was because of my position here at Hogwarts. He was pleased to allow me to stay here, where I could watch and report on Dumbledore’s every move.”

“So then,” Harry paused, weighing everything in his mind before speaking again. “So then, maybe, I could bond over the ‘lesser’ Death Eaters, and only cast judgement on the inner circle? What do you think, sir?”

“Potter, you cannot ask me to make a decision like that,” Snape said quietly. “I would, in effect, be helping you to cast judgement on myself.”

“What?!” Harry asked sharply, jumping to his feet. “I’m not going to judge you, sir! I mean, you’re the only reason we’re all standing here right now. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have known how to defeat Voldemort, and we would either still be fighting, or the Death Eaters would have won.”

“Hey,” Draco said, reaching around to smack Harry lightly. “I could have told you how to kill him.”

“No,” Harry said softly, remembered panic darkening his eyes. “You would still have been trapped inside Voldemort’s mind.”

Draco closed his eyes and shuddered, remembering that all too well.

Snape broke in then, his voice resigned as he stated flatly, “I was a Death Eater, Potter. The world isn’t going to forget that.”

Harry’s body stiffened at that. “The rest of the world can go hang, sir. You did more to bring down Voldemort than anyone, and if people have a problem with that, too bad for them.”

Snape merely shook his head, knowing he would be proven right in the end. “You can champion me all you want, but nothing will take away the fact that I was a Death Eater, and the memories of wizards are very long indeed.”

Harry looked down, frustrated with this turn of events. He meant every word he had said. He would be damned if he would allow Snape to be subject to the same punishments as the rest of the Death Eaters. A thought came to him then, and he made a mental note to speak with Dumbledore as soon as possible. 

Harry squeezed his eyes closed and put one hand to his head, pressing his thumb and middle fingers into his temples, trying to stave off a headache that was fast approaching. “I hate this!” he finally exploded. “I can barely _think_ right now, because my entire freaking body is _humming_ with energy. But I _have_ to, because it’s all up to me, what happens now. ”

Draco stood up and went to Harry, putting his arms around him and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Pulling back, he looked at Harry, eyes puzzled, and raised a hand to push his fringe out of the way. “Harry?”

Harry opened his eyes wearily to find Draco looking at his forehead. With a disgruntled frown, he moved his hand to smooth the fringe back down when Snape’s voice stopped him. “Potter…your scar.”

Harry stilled, dread filling him. “What? Gods, what else could go wrong today?”

Draco smiled slightly, and said, “Actually, I think you’ll enjoy this. Professor, do you have a mirror?”

Snape shot him a look before transfiguring a quill holder into a hand mirror and handing it to Harry. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lifted the mirror. Breathing a small prayer that it wasn’t flashing in neon colours or something, he opened them. And his jaw dropped.

His scar was…not gone, but faded. It looked the way any normal scar would look like after sixteen years, a faint white mark on his forehead, hardly noticeable. A small grin curved his lips as he looked at Draco. “’Scar Head’ doesn’t quite have the same punch now, does it, Ferret Face?”

“’Ferret Face’? Couch, Harry, remember the couch.”

Snape coughed into his hand upon hearing that, obviously trying to cover up laughter. 

Hearing that sound, Harry turned to Snape, and asked the question he had wanted to ask since he woke. “Sir, why are you so different?”

Snape’s brows shot upward, surprised confusion showing on his face. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, but…I’m used to you being a right git, if you don’t mind me saying so, but today you’ve been so…well, different.” Harry shrugged, not sure exactly how to tell Snape what was off about him, but knowing something was. 

“A right git? Yes, I suppose I have been, and for that I feel I must apologise, Potter.”

Draco moved away from Harry then, knowing this apology would be difficult for a man like Snape. As he walked around the small office, he perused the items on display. A nondescript journal bound in black leather caught his eye. As he picked it up and leafed through it curiously, he noticed it was a book of handwritten spells and potions.

Snape was still speaking across the room. “Potter, when you defeated Voldemort, all the darkness that he constantly emitted through the Mark went away. And your…the force of your personality, I suppose, what makes you a light wizard, is what is now transferring through the bond. There has always been a low level of pain in my arm, ever since I took the Mark. Now, it’s gone.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Snape said, “Part of my public persona was because of my status as a spy, but not all of it. Having a constant, dull ache accompanying me everywhere I went was certainly very detrimental to my temper.”

Harry blinked and opened his mouth. “What does it feel like now? I didn’t know I was doing anything.”

“It’s…” Snape scowled a bit, obviously uncomfortable describing this, “peaceful, and warm, and it feels rather like one of Molly Weasley’s hugs, if you must know.”

“So, this…you, I mean…this is the real you? You’re not hiding or in pain anymore, so this is what you’re really like?”

“It appears to be what I am like outside of the influence of Voldemort, yes.”

Draco smirked at the disgruntled tone of Snape’s voice, before he drew startled gasp. One of the spells in the journal he was perusing leapt off the page at him. It was the Morpheus Charm, the one that had been altered, the one that had brought him and Harry together. “Sir!” he called, turning surprised eyes on his professor. “ _You_ are the one who came up with this spell? The one used on Harry, I mean?”

“What?!” Harry asked, shocked. “Why did you create that spell, sir?”

Snape’s black eyes grew shuttered and he shot a calculating glance at Harry. Taking a deep breath, he invited both boys to sit, knowing the time had come for this particular discussion.

“Yes, Draco, in answer to your question, I am the one who manipulated the Morpheus Charm into the spell that was used on Potter.”

“ _You_ used it on him? Wow, sir, that’s…rather kinky,” Draco said, blinking a bit as he tried to reconcile his stern professor with a person who would seduce a student.

Snape blanched. “No, Mr Malfoy, I did _not_ cast the spell on Potter. That was the work of Miss Weasley.” He took a few moments to fill Draco in on the events that had happened after Voldemort had captured his mind. While Draco was still reeling, Snape turned to Harry and said, “But the reason I manipulated the spell, Potter, that is something that I feel I need to tell you about. It will probably be difficult for you to hear, but it will explain my actions toward you over the past several years.”

Harry sat up straighter and nodded, sensing the seriousness in Snape’s words. 

“When I was a student here, I was deeply in love with another student. Our…affair, if you will, lasted for several months, but because of outside pressures placed on us by our various houses, our friends, society in general…” Snape paused and took a deep breath, looking to the ceiling for inspiration.

Harry broke in, his voice pitched low and soothing. “Sir, I think Draco and I understand what you mean. It took my killing Voldemort for _us_ to be able to be together.”

Snape nodded as his lips twisted in remembered pain. “A very good friend of mine was excellent with charms. You might know who I am speaking of, Potter.”

“My mum!” Harry said, eyes wide at Snape’s revelation that he had been close, _very good friends_ , with Lily Potter.

“Indeed. While she did not exactly approve of my relationship with this other student, as she rather detested him for some of his actions and personality quirks, she knew how much I longed to be with him without fear of discovery. By that time, I had already become quite skilled with Legilimency. It has always been a natural gift for me, so we began to try to find ways to use my Legilimency to adapt certain spells and Charms, hoping one of them would work. When we came across the Morpheus Charm, Lily was quite excited that we could suit it to my purposes. We spent several weeks trying various manipulations, before we finally worked it all out one day during a rather dry Potions revision. That is how the final spell came to be in Miss Weasley’s used copy of Advanced Potions Making.”

Steepling his fingers and avoiding Harry’s gaze, he quietly continued, “Needless to say, I used the spell that night, cast it on my lover. I had no doubt that we were soul mates, none at all, you have to understand that part. Within a week, he had turned from me; the spell had backfired royally. Not only was he _not_ my soul mate, nor I his, but my…Lily… she was.”

Harry sucked in a harsh gasp. “What?!?”

Draco picked his jaw up off the floor long enough to place a calming hand on Harry’s arm. A few potions exploded in the time it took Harry to rein in his shock. 

“You…my father…how is that possible?!”

Snape closed his eyes and said softly, “Opposite sides of the coin, Potter. Our disdain turned to love. When that love was forsaken, it turned to a burning hate. I couldn’t forgive him, or her. I saw it as a betrayal, when, in actuality, it was nothing of the sort. When they were killed—“ Snape swallowed heavily, an emotion in his eyes that was difficult to bear. 

Harry lowered his gaze, still not quite able to believe what he was hearing, but knowing that Snape wouldn’t lie to him, _couldn’t_ lie to him.

“And then,” Snape continued gruffly, “ten years later you showed up here, looking so much like him. But with her eyes. It was too much for me. The anger, the betrayal, it all came back to me and coloured my attitude toward you. Again, I apologise.”

Realising that this conversation needed at least the illusion of privacy, Draco again stood and moved away from the desk, going back to the black journal and reading the details of the spell, marvelling at the sheer brilliance and attention to detail that had gone into it. Looking back at Snape, a wicked glint appeared in his eyes.

“That’s why you became a Death Eater, isn’t it?” Harry asked Snape, finally understanding the force that could have driven this proud man to Voldemort. 

“Yes. My pain and anger was so great that I turned toward the dark path. Toward Voldemort. I followed the rest of my House and took the Mark directly after sitting my NEWTs. For a year, I lived in horror at what I was doing. Then, I overheard part of the prophecy regarding you. Voldemort had ordered us all to tell him any information we might glean from the faction working against him, the Order of the Phoenix. So, I told him, unaware that Lily and James were expecting their first child. When I realised this, that the prophecy referred to you, and that Voldemort was planning to kill both you and your parents, I fled to Dumbledore and told him everything. It was that night that I became a spy. Not that it mattered much, since it was not long before Voldemort cast the killing curse on you, which rebounded on him, but Dumbledore knew he would be back.”

Harry nodded, knowing full well Dumbledore would have not had any reservations of using Snape’s guilt and anguish to further the cause of the Order. It had been war; difficult decisions always had to be made during times of war. He couldn’t even truly fault the Headmaster for his actions.

“Thank you for telling me that, sir. I have to admit, after what I saw in your Pensieve during fifth year, I had questions as to why my mother ever loved my father. Actually, as to that, I’m surprised you were ever able to love him.”

Snape’s mouth twisted grimly. “He was actually rather easy to love, Potter. Foolish Gryffindor though he was.”

Harry grinned slightly, “Had to get that in, didn’t you, sir?”

Snape shook himself slightly and changed the subject. “Have you come to a decision regarding the Death Eaters? The Headmaster was correct, Potter; you will need to hold the judgements soon.”

Harry nodded and started formulating ideas, using Snape as a sounding board, gratified to finally see respect and approval in the man’s eyes. While they were talking, they both missed Draco surreptitiously casting a spell on Snape.

~*~

“The judgements of the persons previously Marked as Death Eaters will now commence.”

The voice of the Ministry official rang out in the Great Hall the next day. The official was there to record Harry’s judgements for official publication. He was in no way allowed to interfere or give suggestions for punishments. 

Harry nodded to Snape, asking him to step forward. With a glance at Dumbledore, he spoke loudly and clearly. “Severus Snape, for your actions in furthering the efforts of the light during the war against the Dark Lord Voldemort, at great personal risk to yourself, I free you from your bond.” 

He grinned as he watched Snape’s eyes widen in surprise. Stepping forward, he grasped Snape’s arm, and placing the palm of his wand hand over the Mark, he focused on the bond he could feel so clearly it was nearly visible, and intoned, “Adsertum!” 

Snape gasped and went to his knees, the wash of magic leaving him momentarily weak. For the first time in over seventeen years, he was whole, and belonged only to himself. He could almost feel the weight of shackles falling from him.

“Potter,” he began, only to have Harry shake his head at him.

“You’re free, sir. You proved yourself time and again a hero for the light. Now, the whole world will know what you did to help this day come to be. Don’t be surprised if someone starts a Severus Snape fan club.”

Snape snorted at that thought, but moved to the side when he heard the Ministry official call out a list of names. The Death Eaters who stepped forward were all minor players, they had done very little damage during the war, but were still due judgement.

Harry looked at them all, his face grave with the weight of having to punish people who may have merely been misguided. “Each of you will surrender your wands to the Ministry representative. Your wands will be held by the Ministry until such a time as you have proven yourselves fit to carry them once more. In addition, you will each spend the sum of two years in Azkaban. It is my hope that you will use that time to think about the choices you made that placed you there. Every person touched by magic is worthy of it. The magic chooses the person.”

Snape watched as many within the crowd of approximately fifty witches and wizards cried out in relief. Most had been certain they would not survive the judgements, or that if they did, they would never again be able to use magic. Hope had just been restored to them. Harry’s mercy for his enemies would be told far and wide after this day.

Another group was called forward. These Death Eaters, while not part of the Inner Circle, had been actively involved in Voldemort’s machinations. Snape glanced at Harry and saw resignation in his green eyes. 

“Each of you will surrender your wands to the Ministry representative. Your wands will be destroyed, and you are banned from ever doing magic again. You will report to Azkaban, to spend the sum of twenty years in confinement. Again, I would caution each of you to review the decisions you made that brought you to this point. Your lust for power has driven it from you. May you learn from that.”

Nodding to the Ministry official, the man recited a short list of names. “Vincent Crabbe Sr., Greyback Fenrir, Rudolphus Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy, come forward to be judged.”

The four men stepped forward, all four glaring at Harry. These were the last surviving members of the Inner Circle. The rest had been killed in the final battle. 

Snape felt a dark smile form as he remembered casting the spell to eviscerate Bellatrix after she threw the Slashing Hex at Draco. Magic had never felt so good. The sight of her face as her internal organs hit the stone floor would be one he would cherish always.

Snape’s attention returned to the proceedings as Harry’s anguished gaze sought out Draco, who nodded once and left the Hall. Drawing in a ragged breath, Harry said, quietly, “You will surrender your wands to the Ministry representative. Your wands will be destroyed. Your properties, lands, accounts, and anything else that belongs to you will be turned over to the Ministry. Your assets will be liquidated and the money used to help the families of those you violated. You will each be taken to the Ministry, where you will each be put through the Veil.” Harry’s voice cracked on the last bit. 

Drawing a shuddering breath, he looked out at the witches and wizards gathered in the Great Hall. He had thought long and hard about what he wanted to say, and finally he chose simply to speak from the heart. “Let this be a lesson to all. Darkness has no place in our world. Magic, freely given by the gods, is the right of the individual blessed by that magic. I am a half blood, and my Muggle heritage is just as important as my wizarding heritage. No one, _no one_ , has the right to kill another because of the blood that runs through their veins, or to judge them based on the amount of magic they possess. Everyone, both wizard and Muggle alike, has the right to live in peace. Because of the sacrifices of the many who have fallen, we are finally granted that peace. Let us all live as we were meant to; let this be a new day.”

All those in the Hall not subject to the judgements, and quite a few who were, let out a cheer that could be heard as far as Hogsmeade.


	14. Epilogue: Endings and Beginnings

Harry watched Draco with concern. They’d just been to see the judgements against the Inner Circle carried out, and he was worried about his lover. He had tried to talk Draco out of going, but Draco had been stubbornly insistent that he be there. He’d met with his father privately first, in his cell, and then gone to the Veil room with Harry, bearing haughty but for the fact that he was clutching Harry’s hand in a firm grip.

Harry had to give credit where it was due; Lucius Malfoy had gone to his death with dignity. He’d speared Harry with a cold look, turned, and stepped through the Veil. Harry had tightened his hold on Draco’s hand then, but Draco had remained stoic throughout, his façade only cracking once.

Harry could have beat the insipid little Ministry sod that turned at the end and gave his congratulations to the “new Lord Malfoy.” Draco’s eyes had gone glassy and a fine trembling had broken out over his entire body. Unfortunately for the man, Harry had yet to fully learn how to control his new power and the bastard’s lips had been sealed shut. Permanently. 

Harry shrugged these thoughts off, though, as Draco turned to him, a question in his eyes. “He’s really gone this time, isn’t he? He’s not going to come back. Ever.”

Harry’s heart broke at the lost tone in Draco’s voice. “Oh, gods, Draco, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, love.” And then he held Draco as he wept for his father and all that might have been.

~*~

That night a subdued Draco turned to Harry, and asked the question that had been bothering him all day. “Harry, why did that man call me Lord Malfoy?”

Harry blinked at Draco, wondering if this was a trick question. “Umm, Draco, you were the Malfoy heir. Everything entailed, including the title, went to you upon Lucius’ death. Surely you realised that?”

Draco nodded, and then shook his head, the events of the past few days taking their toll on his ability to concentrate. “I know when you cast the judgements on the Inner Circle, that you made them surrender everything they owned to the Ministry to be liquidated. That’s why I’m confused.”

“Oh,” Harry said, then shrugged. “Entailments, including things like dowries, lands, titles, all that…the Ministry can’t touch those. It’s old laws and old magic, but basically, the laws were set up that way so that no one member of a family could harm that family irrevocably. I’m sorry, Draco. I thought you knew that. What did you think would happen to _your_ accounts, and your mother’s? Did you think those would be seized, too?” he asked softly.

Draco looked up at him, and nodded. “I did. I didn’t want you to worry about me, so I didn’t say anything, but I’ve been a bit…concerned about how I would care for my mother and the family servants and retainers.”

Harry’s face softened in apology. “Draco, I had no idea. Gods, I feel like an utter arse. What you must think of me… I’m so sorry. I really thought you knew about the laws regarding entailed titles and properties. I mean, you’re the only one I know who has them, so I just assumed you knew.” Harry scrubbed at his face with his hands, silently castigating himself for not explaining all this earlier.

Draco stood and moved to Harry, dropping gracefully to his knees in front of Harry’s chair and tugging on his hands. “Harry, stop blaming yourself. You had no reason to believe I wouldn’t know about this. Hell, I _should_ have known that. To be honest, it’s not something I’ve ever really concerned myself with, because I never expected my father…” He stopped and drew a deep breath, willing his emotions under control, before he continued. “I never expected to become Lord Malfoy at such a young age. I thought I would have plenty of time to learn all this.” 

“Draco…do you hate me?” Harry whispered, avoiding Draco’s shocked gaze. 

“What?! No! Why on earth would you ask me that, you silly git? Why would I hate you?” Draco couldn’t understand where Harry’s question had come from.

“I killed your Dad, Draco. I may not have pushed him through the Veil, but I was the one who cast the judgement that made sure he ended up there. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry,” he ended on a harsh whisper.

Draco lifted Harry’s face, cupping it in his hands as he stared deeply into Harry’s anguished gaze. “I want you to listen to me, Harry. No, not just listen, I want you to _understand_ me. I love you. You were placed in a horrible position, and you made the right decision. My father,” Draco swallowed and closed his eyes, the grief still fresh. “My father was not a good man, Harry. He deserved the punishment he was dealt. You and I both know that. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for me. Just because I know he deserved it doesn’t mean I didn’t love him. He was my father. But I don’t want you to ever think, even for a minute, that I blame you for his death. He earned that death several times over.”

Harry put his hands over Draco’s on his cheeks. “What’s going to happen to your mother, Draco?”

Narcissa Malfoy had not attended the Veil ceremony. Harry had not actually seen her at all. As soon as word reached her of the fall of the Dark Lord, she had started packing. When she found out Lucius was being sentenced to death, she had Owled Draco to let him know that she was leaving for France to “learn how to live again.” Draco had taken it well, but Harry couldn’t help but feel that Narcissa had abandoned her son.

Draco sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, Harry. I hope once the shock of the past few days wears off she’ll come home, but for now…maybe France will be good for her. Let her remember what life can be like when you don’t have to worry about your every word and action.”

They sat in silence for several minutes before Draco softly called Harry’s name.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking up into beautiful grey eyes.

“We’re seventeen years old, you’ve just defeated a dark lord and gained untold power, I’ve just become the next Lord Malfoy…why are we just sitting here?” 

Harry searched Draco’s gaze, before saying, “What do you want to do, love?”

“I want to act young and carefree; I want to run naked through the halls; I want to forget how to be unhappy; I want to remember how to love unconditionally; and,” he paused, a wicked gleam coming into his eyes, as he said, “I want to make like bunnies and shag all night.”

Harry let out a whoop of laughter and stood up, capturing Draco around the waist and heaving him over his shoulder, staggering a little before smacking Draco’s arse and saying, “I think we can take care of all those…starting with the last one first, of course.”

Harry had been given a set of private rooms after the Final Battle, his to use until the end of the year, or until he learned to control his new magic, whichever came first. He walked, panting slightly, into the bedroom and gently lowered Draco onto the bed. 

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, expression going serious again as he thought of all the emotional upheaval Draco had gone through in the past week, not to mention the physical and magical harm he had been subjected to.

“Not yet, but I expect, as soon as you lose your clothes, I will be,” Draco responded saucily, giving Harry a lascivious wink.

Harry chuckled and started a slow, seductive strip tease. They hadn’t been together sexually since that night in the Room of Requirement, before Draco had been taken. Draco and Harry had both needed time for their bodies and souls to heal before they could do this. And now…now there was nothing stopping them.

Harry trailed his fingers over the thin material of his shirt, watching Draco’s gaze follow the path of his hands. Slowly, steadily, he began to slip the buttons free of their holes, breath turning slightly ragged as Draco’s eyes darkened with desire. He slipped the now open shirt off his shoulders, struggling a bit when the cuffs hung up on his wrists. With a slight ripping sound, it was off and on the floor, and his hands were going to his belt. 

Draco sat up and licked his lips, watching every move of Harry’s hands. His chest started heaving a bit as Harry lowered the zip of his trousers gently over his swollen cock. Anticipation was making Draco’s gut tighten with longing. When Harry dropped his trousers and pants, Draco couldn’t hold in a soft moan. 

Lifting a shaking hand and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, he beckoned Harry forward. When he was within touching distance, Draco ran his hands over Harry’s flat, taut abdomen before smoothing them up over his shoulders and pulling him down to the bed. His eyelids fluttered as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry opened his mouth to Draco’s invading tongue, happy to let his lover set the pace for this encounter. After banishing Draco’s clothes, he brought his hands up to thread them in Draco’s silky hair, a contented hum escaping him. When Draco drew his tongue into his mouth and started sucking on it, that hum turned into a moan of pure need.

Draco whimpered at the incredibly arousing sounds Harry was making. Breaking the kiss, he lowered his head to lick gently along Harry’s strong jaw and down the side of his neck, stopping occasionally to nibble and suck on the fragrant skin there. “I love you,” he murmured in Harry’s ear, before swiping his tongue inside the shell. 

Harry shuddered and pulled at Draco’s hips, seeking friction. Draco made a short growly sound and grabbed Harry’s hands, placing them above his head with a little extra force that clearly meant _keep them there_. Harry acquiesced with a small whimper, arching his back, seeking contact with Draco’s lithe frame.

Draco grinned to himself and released Harry’s hands, allowing his fingers to trail ever so lightly down his lover’s arms to his chest. As his touch whispered across the sensitive underside of Harry’s arms, Draco felt a delicious tremor run through the body under him. Finding that rather interesting, he did it again, forcing a moan from Harry. With a decidedly wicked glint in his eye, he leaned over and traced a light design on Harry’s arm with the very tip of his tongue, causing Harry to clench his hands into fists and say, “Dammit, Draco, stop teasing me! Please! I need you.”

Draco pecked a soft kiss to Harry’s lips and said, “Hush, you. All in good time. I want to play first.”

“Sweet Merlin, you want to drive me insane. It’s all an evil plot to do me in,” Harry whinged, a teasing note underlining his words.

Draco pulled back and looked at him, face suddenly serious. “I was rather thinking you could do me this time. I mean, it’s only fair since last time…” His voice trailed off as he watched heat leap into Harry’s eyes.

Harry swallowed harshly. “Oh. Oh, yeah. But I want to try something, okay?”

Draco’s eyes were caught on Harry’s lips; watching them form words was suddenly highly erotic to him. “Whatever you want,” he murmured. 

Harry waggled his hands, only moving them at a nod from Draco. Reaching up, he pulled Draco up his body until his knees were on either side of Harry’s head. Breathing a bit erratically, Harry looked straight up into Draco’s mesmerising eyes and licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. 

Draco gasped and arched his back, head falling backward even as he registered Harry whispering a cleansing spell. His entire body tingled as the spell hit him, leaving him squirming just a bit. The sensation had been almost erotic in nature, and was made even more so when Harry’s grip on his thighs pushed him into a slightly different position and he felt the swipe of a tongue over his entrance.

Harry stilled his movements when he heard Draco gurgle. “Okay?”

“Yeah, oh gods, Harry, don’t stop!”

Harry smiled with wonder at the totally breathless quality to Draco’s voice. Screwing up his courage he licked again at Draco’s hole. He was rewarded by another strange noise from his lover and set about doing everything he could to pull more and more of the sexy sounds out.

Draco was panting and moaning and cursing fluently in three languages by the time Harry pulled away. “Why the fuck are you stopping?!” Draco nearly screamed.

“Because,” Harry said, licking his lips to savour Draco’s taste, “you’re so fucking hot, and the sounds you’re making are driving me insane. I want you, Draco. I want you right fucking now.”

Draco’s whole body quivered at the blatant need in Harry’s voice. Beyond words now, he just nodded his head, letting Harry know he was just as ready. 

Unable to resist the lure of Draco’s body, Harry gave one more lick over Draco’s entrance before whispering the same lubrication spell Draco had used on him the last time they’d made love. A choked sound from above had him glancing worriedly at Draco and asking, “All right?”

Draco’s voice was a bit strangled as he said, “Yeah, but I think we should let me do that one ‘til you figure out your magic. I’m not sure we need _quite_ that much.”

Harry blinked in confusion until he felt a glob of lube fall on his chest and noticed that it was dripping out of Draco. He couldn’t help himself then and started laughing. Draco scooted back down Harry’s body and grinned at him, loving the way Harry’s green eyes sparkled with mirth. 

Deciding that laughter had its moments, and this wasn’t one of them, Draco captured Harry’s lips in a fierce kiss, bringing Harry’s attention right back where he wanted it. As they kissed, Harry steadily prepared Draco with his fingers, causing him to moan and thrust his hips onto Harry’s hand, the overabundance of lube minimising any pain he might have felt.

When Harry was comfortably plunging three fingers into Draco, he pulled his hand back and urged Draco’s hips back and down, using the hand he’d been preparing Draco with to guide his cock into Draco’s eager hole. 

Draco gasped as he slowly sat down on Harry’s cock, the feeling of the head slipping past his ring of muscles wrenching a moan from him. Loving the control he had in this position, Draco took over and began teasing both Harry and himself with tiny little movements of his hips, each one lowering him more and more, until finally Harry was fully inside him.

Harry was trying his best not to grab Draco’s hips and force him into movement, but the way he was just _sitting there_ , not moving, eyes closed, teeth mashed into his bottom lip and forehead furrowed…wait…

“Draco, are you all right, love? Am I hurting you?”

Draco shook his head rapidly, hands coming down to brace on Harry’s chest as he leaned forward and took Harry’s mouth in a devastatingly sweet kiss. Lips still touching, he said softly, “I’m so much more than all right. Never in my life have I felt as good as I do right now, Harry. It’s the most amazing thing and I just want to memorise it.” Draco sat back up then, the shifting of his hips causing both of them to groan with pleasure. “I fucking take it back! _That_ was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.”

Harry brought his hands up to grip Draco’s hips then, locking gazes with Draco and getting a tiny nod of acceptance. With the help of Draco’s strong thighs, he guided him into a gentle rocking rhythm that quickly became hard and fast as both young men lost control. 

Feeling a familiar tightening of his balls, Harry let go of Draco’s hips with one hand and used it to firmly manipulate Draco into a shattering orgasm. As he felt Draco’s inner muscles squeeze down on him, Harry threw back his head and arched his back and came, releasing his essence into Draco, even as Draco was coming in spurts on Harry’s chest. 

Draco slumped down on top of Harry, breathing harsh and erratic. “Gods, Harry,” he moaned. “That was fan-fucking-tastic.”

Harry simply nodded in agreement, not quite capable of speech yet. 

“Of course,” Draco murmured sleepily, “we’re gonna need new candles. You melted all the ones we had.”

Harry pried his eyes open and looked around. Sure enough, every candle in the room was now a melted puddle of wax. 

Damn, he really needed to get his magic under control. Ah well, he'd have plenty of time to figure that out. With a contented sigh, he pulled Draco close and gave himself over to sleep.

~*~

Severus twisted in tangled sheets on his bed as he dreamed…

_It was the Final Battle; the Entrance Hall was literally swarming with people. Black robes of Death Eaters mingled with those of the students, slowing down the opponents on both sides. “Don’t cast until you can see the whites of their eyes,” had never meant so much as it did now._

_He was weakening every minute, his body nearly numb with fatigue, both from the battle and the lingering effects of being tortured through his Mark by Voldemort. Being this close to the Dark Lord was pure agony; he didn’t know how Potter could stand the pain that must be radiating from his curse scar._

_His eyes flicked around the Hall to see where Potter was. Ah, he was fighting Dolohov on a balcony. His eyes were drawn then to the balcony above where Potter was fighting so desperately…and what he saw made his blood run cold._

_Remus Lupin was locked in battle with Crabbe Sr and Rudolphus Lestrange, and as Severus watched in horror, a bolt of blue light struck Remus, flinging him backward, off the balcony, and sending him hurtling toward the ground over thirty feet below. As Severus was about to cast the spell to stop his fall, a hex hit him squarely from behind, knocking him off his feet and causing him to miss Remus with his spell. With an anguished shout, he saw Remus’ body hit the hard, unforgiving stone floor, a sickening thud reaching his disbelieving ears._

_Suddenly the shouts of curses and hexes around him faded away to nothingness, as the people fighting winked out of existence. He was alone and aching, still lying on the hard floor. His tortured gaze went to where Remus had fallen, only to see the other man roll over, moaning and clutching at his head. It came to him then, this was a dream. Remus had died in the Final Battle, Severus had seen it with his own eyes, but now his mind was trying to deny it._

_Standing shakily, he limped over to where Remus lay, still holding tightly to his head and cursing violently. Dropping to his knees, he pulled Remus’ hands away and muttered a healing spell, though he could laugh at himself for trying this now, in a dream, where it wouldn’t ever make a difference. Perhaps this, then, was his penance for failing Remus so horribly in life?_

_“Thanks,” Remus said gruffly, looking up at him with eyes the same clear amber as Severus’ favourite whisky._

_Severus grunted in reply and allowed his hands to run through Remus’ hair, ostensibly to feel for damage to his cranium, but mostly just because he had always wondered if Remus’ hair was truly as soft as it looked. Even while Severus had been deeply involved in a relationship with James, Remus had fascinated him. His quiet demeanour had lent him an air of mystery, perhaps. And Merlin knew mysteries had always fascinated Severus._

_A rumbling moan distracted him from his thoughts and he looked down to see Remus staring up at him, heat crackling in his eyes. His hands stilled as he felt an answering fire kindle within him. His breathing became shallow and he cursed himself silently, knowing the other man’s heightened senses would pick that up._

_Remus shifted on the stone floor and brought one hand up to wrap around Severus’ neck, pulling his unresisting form down for a slow, tentative kiss. The gentle exploration was broken abruptly as Severus pulled back, clearing his throat for a moment before he looked away, and said, “I’m not Black. I won’t ever be him, nor will I allow myself to stand as substitute for him.”_

_Remus’ prolonged silence wore on Severus’ already strained nerves, forcing him to look back down into those eyes. “I’m not James. I won’t ever be_ him _, nor will I allow myself to stand as substitute for him.”_

_Severus blinked and raised one eyebrow in question._

_Remus pushed himself to a sitting position. “I know how badly it hurt you when James chose Lily. I watched you constantly after that, afraid of what you might do. Sirius…well, he didn’t understand my concern, perhaps because he knew there was a part of me that was more interested than I should have been. I loved Sirius with all my heart, but he’s dead. Just as James is dead. If we allow ourselves to live in the past, we’ll never have a future.”_

_Severus choked on a bitter laugh. “What future? You’re dead.” His façade broke then, as he closed his eyes on a grimace. “I’m sorry, Remus. I’m so terribly sorry. I—“ He drew in a sharp breath through his nose, as his eyes darted everywhere but at the man sitting before him. “I tried to stop your fall. I swear on everything I hold dear, I did! But I missed. I missed Remus, and now you’re dead.”_

_“Shhhh. I’m not dead. I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t be here if I were dead, you know that, Severus. And you have nothing to feel sorry for. It was war. I’ve always known the danger of battle, just as you have. We all knew there was a chance we wouldn’t survive. But we did survive, Severus. We both did, and now we have to learn how to live again. Will you help me learn, Severus? Please?”_

_Severus locked gazes with Remus again, a small bit of pain lifting from him as he saw the gentle pleading in those eyes. Perhaps this dream Remus forgiving him would allow him to start forgiving himself. And since it_ was _a dream, there was nothing stopping him from doing what he’d wanted to do for years._

_Severus leaned forward slowly, staring into Remus’ eyes the whole while, until his vision blurred and their lips met._

Severus jerked awake, panting and sweating in the dark as he tried to make sense of his dream. A shudder coursed through him as he saw Remus’ body strike the floor once again. That image warred with the one of Draco’s skin bursting apart under the force of Bellatrix’ Slashing Hex as his least favourite memory of the Final Battle. 

With a shaking hand, he reached for the vial of Dreamless Sleep he had started keeping on his nightstand. As he settled back against his pillows after taking the potion, he allowed his finger to trace over his lips, which still tingled from Remus’ kiss. Severus’ eyes slid closed, and just as sleep swallowed his conscious mind, a thought struggled to make itself known. Too late, though, for now Severus was sleeping again, this time without the burden of seeing death all around him.

~*~

Harry walked into the Great Hall that Saturday night, attired in formal dress robes. Tonight was the victory celebration. It had been six days since Voldemort’s defeat. Six days of recovery, grief, and healing. When Dumbledore had announced the previous evening that they would be holding a victory celebration tonight, Harry had actually agreed. He hated these types of events, but it was something the students and staff sorely needed. 

They would never forget the ones who had fallen, but it was time to learn how to live again. 

He scanned the room as he tried to decide what to do until Draco came down. Draco had still been trying to choose between three sets of dress robes when Harry had finished getting ready, and he had shoo’d Harry out of the room, telling him in no uncertain terms that if Harry stood around him looking so “utterly shaggable”, that they’d never make it to the party. Harry, lost in his perusal of Draco’s pert bum—covered only in a pair of green boxer shorts—had cleared his throat and agreed. Hormones were all well and good, but they did have to make an appearance at least.

Seeing Snape standing in a corner, looking rather elegant in a set of darkest green dress robes, he made his way over. If nothing else, he wouldn’t be expected to recount the Final Battle ad nauseum with the man. 

“Professor,” he greeted, moving to stand next to the tall man, ignoring the long-suffering look Snape slid his direction. 

“Potter.”

“Enjoying the party, sir?”

“I _was_. Was there something you needed?”

“Besides a week alone with Draco, you mean?” Harry asked with a grin, snagging a cup of pumpkin juice off a tray as it floated past.

“You’ll have to work that around your detention schedule, Potter,” Snape said, pulling a small flask from inside his robes and pouring a bit of firewhiskey into a conjured glass. When Harry’s jaw dropped in shock, he fought to keep a straight face. Really, the boy was far too gullible for his own good.

“You’re still going to make us serve detention? Even after…everything?!”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Snape asked, quirking one brow.

“Because we…the battle…you…”

Severus couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter at that point. Rolling his eyes, he muttered to himself, “It’s not even fun anymore.” Raising his voice so that Harry could hear him, he said, “Calm yourself, Potter. All detentions earned prior to the battle have been cancelled. You’ll just have to ensure that Mr Malfoy and yourself keep the fighting to a minimum now.”

Harry hid a small grin behind his cup of pumpkin juice and waited for Severus to take a sip of his whiskey before saying, “But, sir, fighting is so…stimulating.” Just as he’d hoped, Severus choked and went into a fit of coughing.

Harry chuckled then, pounding his new…friend? on the back. Amazing as it seemed, perhaps they were friends now, of a sort. Certainly, there were few people Harry trusted as much as he did this man with whom he had such a volatile history. But then again, couldn’t he say the same for his relationship with Draco?

And where _was_ Draco anyway? He had promised to meet Harry at the party ten minutes ago. ‘ _Bloody primping pouf_ ,’ Harry thought with a soft smile. A commotion at the entrance to the Great Hall had him turning his head. What he saw there made him let out a shout of joy and break into a dash across the hall.

~*~

Severus was still recovering from Harry’s little joke when he heard the noise level of the room pick up. Harry’s subsequent shout and undignified gallop across the Great Hall drew his eyes toward the entrance. What he saw there caused him to pale and drop his glass of firewhiskey, not even noticing when it shattered and splashed liquid on the hem of his robes.

“Remus,” he breathed. As he stood rooted to the ground in shock, the object of his scrutiny looked up and locked gazes with him, amber eyes burning into his own. The man then smiled wryly, disengaged himself from the people surrounding him and moved toward Severus.

“Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Remus said quietly, as soon as he reached Severus. 

“But…how?’

Remus’ lips quirked with humour. “I’m a werewolf, Severus. Surely you recall making a potion for me every month?” he teased gently. “We have rather useful healing abilities. I’m quite difficult to kill.”

Severus nodded, avoiding Remus’ gaze now to ask the most difficult question. “Why did you allow us to think you were dead? I’m sure Potter would have liked to have known you were alive, at the very least. Where have you been?”

Remus stood quietly until Severus looked back at him, obsidian gaze cool with censure. “The headmaster knew I was alive. I’m sure he had his reasons to keep my status a secret. As for where I’ve been, I have been working with Bill Weasley and Seamus Finnegan in seclusion since their results came back positive for lycanthropy. Finnegan especially has a lot to overcome. The boy was highly prejudiced to begin with; his new affliction has been rather difficult for him to adjust to.”

Severus nodded, finding it difficult to pay attention to the words, when all he wanted to do was revel in Remus’ husky voice and the fact that he was alive. 

Remus stopped speaking and just stared at Severus, waiting for something, it seemed. Not certain why Remus was watching him so carefully, Severus dropped his gaze and asked brusquely, “What?”

Remus smiled gently. “I was merely wondering when it would occur to you…”

“When _what_ would occur to me?” Severus snapped, nerves feeling raw and exposed.

“You generally reach the obvious conclusion far ahead of everyone else, Severus. Allow me a moment to savour your confusion,” Remus said, humour dancing in his eyes.

Severus growled softly, incensed at the suggestion that Remus was laughing at him.

With a small sigh, Remus asked, “Have you had pleasant dreams, Severus?”

Severus’ eyes flared with shock before he closed them and lifted a hand to rub at his temples. “The Morpheus Charm,” he muttered. “It seems I need to have a little talk with Draco.”

Remus grinned, enjoying Severus’ chagrin. “I think now would be the time to start anew, Severus. What do you think?” With those softly uttered words, he offered Severus his hand and waited.

Severus looked down at the hand, blinking rapidly as he fought to bring order to the chaos in his mind. Shaking himself a bit, he took a deep breath and lifted his hand to Remus’, sliding his palm against the slightly rough skin of the werewolf’s. 

They stood that way, just holding hands, not even shaking them really, for quite some time. Neither realised that they had drawn the attention of four young adults, three of whom looked on with varying expressions of shock, while the fourth simply smirked with satisfaction.

“And they all lived happily ever after,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear, drawing his lover back against him as they watched Severus and Remus get lost in each other.

**THE END**


End file.
